Christmas Puds & Killers

by Donna Doyle

  “You’ll fool him just fine!” Helen said with a grin. “The next thing I know you’ll become a master of disguise and I won’t even recognize you when you have a mystery to solve!”

  Sammy adjusted her purse on her shoulder and jingled her keys in her hand, a nervous knot taking up residence in her stomach. “Helen, do you think this whole idea is ridiculous?”

  “What, talking to Mr. Herzog?”

  “No, more of trying to figure out what happened to Maureen. I feel like I’m too old to be playing Nancy Drew, running around spying on people and trying to get information out of them. I don’t know anything about detective work, and we don’t even know that there’s a reason to investigate. The police haven’t said.”

  Helen placed a gentle hand on each of her arms. “Sammy, my dear, I could never say that it’s ridiculous. You are always busy with something, and I find that admirable. So many people are content to lay around watching television or playing on their phones without a care for what’s going on in the world, but you aren’t like that. And don’t ever say you’re too old. The Radical Grandmas are twice your age at least, and wasn’t Miss Marple up there in years?”

  Sammy laughed. “I thought Viola was the mystery novel expert.”

  “I’ve read a book or two in my day,” Helen said with a smile. “And you should know better than to think there’s nothing going on simply because the police haven’t said anything. Alfie Jones is a good man and a smart one, and I trust him to do his job, but part of doing his job means not releasing any information to the public until the time is right. He can’t just come out and say Maureen was murdered unless he has good cause, and he won’t want to drive Sunny Cove into a panic. Especially not around the holidays.”

  “You’re always the voice of reason, aren’t you?” Sammy asked, feeling comfort in knowing that she could count on someone so close to her. The two women spent a lot of time together, and that would be difficult if they didn’t have such a good relationship.

  “I try! Now, you get out there and find us a new pretend restaurant!”

  As she drove across town, Sammy felt a little guilty at the idea that she had to deceive Mr. Herzog in order to get information out of him. It didn’t seem fair to make him think he would be initiating a new business deal, when she knew good and well it would never happen. “Lord, I know you understand why I’m doing this,” she whispered, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. I just hope you can forgive me for it.”

  Mr. Herzog’s office was a large and flashy one, two levels of dark concrete lines with so many windows that they reflected the buildings across the street. If this was a larger city, Sammy was certain he would have built a skyscraper instead. Her stomach flopped around as she walked across the parking lot and entered the massive lobby, complete with a metal modern art sculpture hanging from the ceiling. A sophisticated-looking young woman sat behind a desk in the back of the lobby, and she looked up as soon as Sammy walked in.

  “Ms. Baker?”

  How did she know? “Yes, ma’am. I’m here to see Mr. Herzog.”

  But of course the secretary already knew that. “Right this way, please.” She led Sammy down a curving hallway past a series of office doors, and Sammy had to wonder just how many people this man had working for him. The secretary opened the largest door at the end of the hall and waved her into a massive office. “Please, have a seat. Mr. Herzog will be with you momentarily. Would you like a bottle of water or some coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” she replied nervously as she sank into the metal chair in front of a large glass desk. This was all too much for a small place like Sunny Cove. If Herzog wanted to transform the town into a big city, then he had certainly started with his own office.

  After less than a minute, a door behind the desk opened and a very tall man walked in. Sammy craned her head back to see his face at such close proximity. He was slim in his brown tailored suit, and he gave her a cold smile as he reached out to shake her hand. His other hand was tucked around a thin laptop. “Ms. Baker, thank you for being so prompt. I know we have a lot to discuss.”

  Her misgivings about lying to him swelled within her once again, but she reminded herself that it was for Maureen’s sake. And perhaps she would need her own building in the future if she decided to open her own bakery, although the idea of leaving Helen seemed impossible. “Yes. We’re interested in seeing what you might be able to do for us in terms of a new restaurant.”

  Andrew sat down, but he was still a good head taller than Sammy. Still it made it easier to speak to him without focusing on his height. He opened his laptop, which was more like a fancy tablet with a keyboard attached, and nodded. “Your current location is 1214 Main Street, is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir.” Sammy didn’t know why he intimidated her so much. Maybe it was because she knew he was the prime suspect in Maureen’s death, or maybe because he was such a prominent business man who clearly had a lot of money to throw around. She reminded herself that she was important, too. Doughnuts, rolls, and muffins might not be as important as new buildings, but people certainly seemed to want them.

  “Yes, I thought so. I took the liberty of pulling up the city plans for the place. It was built in the 1930s, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that building codes were much different back then. It’s remarkable the place is still standing.” He scrolled through his notes on the screen.

  “Well, it’s had several remodels. The second floor is actually a very nice apartment.”

  “But certainly a small one,” he countered, shaking his head. “It’s not really enough living space to be considered decent, and the idea of having living quarters over a place of business is incredibly old-fashioned. You need something new and modern, something that will catch people’s eye and make them realize how much they want to explore the new and different.”

  Sammy opened her mouth to protest that she very much liked her small apartment, thank you very much, and it was more than enough for a single person who wasn’t home all that often anyway. But she snapped it shut again, reminding herself that she wasn’t here to defend their building and what it meant to them. “Yes, that’s exactly right.”

  “And the name?” Andrew raised a light brown eyebrow that matched his short crew cut. “Just Like Grandma’s? That really isn’t going to bring in a crowd. I know you’re here for a new building, but I know a great marketing guy that I can set you up with. He can completely revamp the place, from the name to the furniture to the menus. And you’re going to want it once you get into a new building. Your old stuff simply won’t look right.”

  “I’m sure that’s true. But for now, I think I’d just like to start with the building. I’ll need that information to take back to my business partner and see what she thinks.” Change the name? Redo the menus? Did this man never go out and interact with any of the people in Sunny Cove? Customers young and old flocked to Just Like Grandma’s on a regular basis. It probably had nothing to do with the name of the diner and more to do with the fact that they could get a good meal for a cheap price, and they always knew they would get great service.

  “And I’ve got something that’s going to knock her socks off.” Andrew turned the tablet around, displaying a behemoth of brick and glass with odd little pergolas sticking out every now and then. Everything was angles and corners and lighting. “Here’s the exterior, which is going to reach out and grab anyone who drives by. I’ve got the floor plan here as well.”

  “It’s…so big.” She couldn’t think of anything else nice to say about it. It would hold half the town. While that might seem like a good thing to a man like Andrew Herzog, Sammy knew it would completely take away the cozy, small-town feeling that came from their current place. They would have to hire five times their current staff, at least. And it was far too modern for a diner that served biscuits and gravy and homestyle stew.

  “Exactly! People don’t like to feel crowded. They want to spread out a little, make themselves at home. The
key is to have free Wi-Fi and outlets at every table. The internet is everywhere, and you don’t want your restaurant to be the exception.” The enthusiasm was obvious on the developer’s face.

  But Sammy wasn’t so sure that it was a bad thing to be the exception. People sat down with their families and actually talked to each other while they ate. Sure, they still checked their phones, but it would be awful for Just Like Grandma’s to turn into an internet café with nothing but the sound of clacking keyboards and coffee machines. “It’s always good to stay on top of current trends,” she said nervously.

  “I’ll email you a copy of everything so you can go over it with your partner. It also includes a bid sheet from the contractor.”

  Sammy nodded, knowing Helen would laugh so hard she would fall out of her chair once she saw it. “I guess my biggest question for you right now is where such a place would be built? It’s much bigger than the footprint of our current place.”

  Andrew waved off the idea of their Main Street location. “I’ve got the perfect place. There’s a place near the edge of town, right next to the new gas station.”

  “The only place I can think of is the Dairy Queen.”

  “Exactly! That place is ancient, and it needs to be razed so something new can grow there. I’ve got the owners just about ready to sell.”

  This was about as much as Sammy could tolerate. She certainly knew a lot more about this man’s characters after spending only a few minutes with him, and it was time to get to the heart of the matter. Snapping her fingers in the air, she said, “That’s what it is! I’ve been trying to figure out where I’ve seen you before. You were at the fundraiser the other night for the Sunny Cove Recreation Center, weren’t you?”

  “Ugh, unfortunately.” Mr. Herzog’s bright, positive disposition took an instant downturn. “What a miserable old place! I can’t believe anyone would want to save it. And while I know it’s not right to speak of the dead, it will never get registered with the historical society now that Maureen is gone.”

  “Oh.” Sammy wasn’t sure how well she was hiding her shock at this revelation. “I didn’t realize that it qualified to be on the register.”

  Andrew rolled his eyes. “Yeah, some bunk about it having a lasting effect on the community and the important people in our past who went there, yada yada yada. It’s just a rundown swimming pool, and there’s no reason to keep dumping money into it when I could build a high-rise condo that would really have an impact.” He turned the computer around, pulled up a different file, and showed it to her. “Look at this place. It’s gorgeous, and it would house so many people in Sunny Cove who are currently living in old, dilapidated bungalows. Not to mention the employees that would be involved as well.”

  The monstrosity on the screen was again all angles and glass, and the height of it would make it stick out like a sore thumb in their tiny town. “I see. And you think you’ll be able to build that now?”

  “Not a problem,” he assured her. “It’s time it was moved out of the way for the sake of progress. If it weren’t for men like me, Sunny Cove would still be just a collection of stick shacks without so much as a general store.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. I think I have everything I need for the moment. I’ll be sure to get back to you.” Sammy scurried out of the office as quickly as she could without giving herself away. It had certainly been an interesting interview.

  7

  Holiday Baking

  Back in her car, heading through the damp slush that the snow plow had left behind, Sammy took a deep breath and sighed. Mr. Herzog was definitely determined to get rid of the rec center, but was he determined enough to kill Maureen? She seemed to be the only force standing in his way, and he was certainly interested in knocking down the old to bring in the new, but Sammy hadn’t really found out anything conclusive. It was time to move on and explore something else for a while.

  Unfortunately, she knew just where she needed to go, and she wasn’t looking forward to it. Helen’s insistence that Carly Anderson was involved somehow was a thought that had nagged at the back of Sammy’s mind all night, and the only way to feel better about it was go talk to her. But Sammy wasn’t interested in creating an enemy out of this woman—that is, if Carly didn’t already see her as an enemy—and she wasn’t as confident that her cover story would work. Why would a baker visit another baker’s shop, after all?

  But as she pulled up in front of Carly’s Cupcakes, she knew she had to try. It would settle her mind, and it would be another person to cross off the list. She desperately wanted to show the Radical Grandmas that she was all on board with this case, and this little visit would prove it to herself as well.

  The scent of sugar and butter was thick in the air as soon as she got out of her car. The old building had been painted a muted shade of hunter green, but the brilliant pink and white awning and the decorative painting on the front window made it obvious what sort of place this was. “Carly’s Cupcakes” stood out in bold, swirling pink letters above a display of her goods in a glass case. Sammy’s throat was tight as she walked in, hoping there would be plenty of other customers in front of her so she would have a chance to look around the place before she had to talk to anyone.

  But she wasn’t going to be that lucky. The place was completely empty. The black and white checkerboard tile was swept clean around a few small tables along one side of the store near a refrigerated case of cold drinks. The big glass cases that filled up two other walls displayed a variety of cupcakes, cookies, and muffins. The pink theme carried over on the interior, with the drywall behind the cases painted a bright pink trimmed in white. No employees were in sight.

  With shaking fingers, Sammy stepped forward and rang the little silver bell on the counter. She eyed the Christmas-themed cupcakes in the case in front of her, each with a tiny candy cane perched on top, ready to order half a dozen of them if things were too awkward.

  A woman emerged from the back, dusting her fingers off on her apron. Sammy immediately recognized her dark hair—once again pulled up in a bun—and her long, sharp face. Carly smiled toward her latest customer, but the smile faded and her skin turned pale as soon as she saw Sammy. “Oh. Um, hello.”

  It wasn’t the friendliest greeting, but Sammy knew she wasn’t the type of customer Carly had been expecting. She remembered to smile. “Hi! I’m Sammy Baker. I work down at Just Like Grandma’s.” She held out her hand, hoping she looked more confident than she felt.

  “Yes, I’ve heard all about you,” Carly replied as she slowly reached out to shake her hand. “And I’ve heard how talented you are. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Maybe, if you have a minute to talk.”

  Carly gestured around them at the empty bakery. “I don’t have anyone else occupying my time right now.”

  Sammy pulled in a deep breath, hoping her idea didn’t come back to kick her in the behind later. “Sometimes we’re asked to do catering jobs or special orders for birthdays and parties. This really seems to pick up around the holidays, and sometimes it’s more than we can keep up with. I thought I would check with you to see if I could refer some of the work to you.” It had been the most flattering and least contentious pretext Sammy had been able to come up with, and it was something that might actually work out to both of their advantages.

  Carly’s attitude completely changed, and a slow and excited smile spread over her face. “Why don’t you have a seat, and we can chat?” She pointed at the tables on the opposite side of the room.

  Now they were getting somewhere. “Sure.”

  The baker brought two cupcakes to the table with her, placing one in front of Sammy. They were the cute Christmas ones with the mini candy canes. “Cup of coffee?”

  “That would be great.” There was nothing better on a cold, snowy day than a hot cup of coffee. Once they were both settled in, Sammy peeled back the wrapper on her cupcake. “I appreciate you taking time out of your day to talk with me. I wasn’t sure
how you would feel about me, since apparently some people see us as competition. Personally, I don’t think of it that way.”

  Carly looked relieved. “I’m glad to hear that, and that you’re willing to send a little business my way. I opened this shop on a bit of a whim, and things have been pretty slow.”

  “Have you done any sort of advertising?” Just Like Grandma’s didn’t dive into their marketing any further than posting their specials in the front window, but the diner had been around for so long and had so many regulars that they didn’t need much more than word of mouth. A new business was different, she was sure.

  “I’ve tried, but I haven’t had much luck. I think there are a lot of people who are baking at home these days, watching cooking shows and just deciding they want to do it on their own. And maybe my prices are a little high, but ingredients are expensive!” Carly plucked the candy cane off the top of her cupcake and set it aside on a napkin.

  “I can’t argue with you there. I do a lot of volume, but our profit margin on the baked goods probably isn’t as high as people think. And then of course, there’s all the time I invest in it as well.” The first bite of her cupcake had been pretty good, with a nice minty flavor in the cake balanced out by the creaminess of the icing. But as she bit into the center, she found that the cake had suddenly turned dense and overly moist. It had fallen in the middle, and while this had been covered up with the icing for appearances, it didn’t make for the most appealing treat. “I think you’re overmixing your batter.”

  As she said it, she looked up to see the pure horror on Carly’s face. Sammy hadn’t meant to say anything critical; it was just an automatic response. She had just started up her conversation with this woman and hadn’t even gotten close to talking about the party, and she had already ruined it. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”