Wined, Dined and Dead

by Stacey Alabaster

  Wined, Dined and Dead

  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!

  Copyright © 2017 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.

  Thank you so much for buying my book. I am excited to share my stories with you and hope that you are just as thrilled to read them.

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  Chapter 1

  Pink hearts surrounded me everywhere, along with messages of everlasting love. As I stared down at the wedding cake in front of me, I had this sinking feel of premonition.

  It wasn't mine, of course. I was just decorating it. As a favor for my baker boyfriend, Kenneth, who was overwhelmed with the added Valentine's workload. But he'd been getting super serious lately, and talking about the future a lot. Like, a lot. Was I ready for the sort of commitment that involved a wedding cake of my own?

  "This is going to be the best Valentine's Day ever!" Pippa said, spinning around with her new baby daughter, Lolly, out in front of her. "Your daddy is coming home, Lolly!" She made a gurgling sound, but I wasn't sure if she actually understood what Pippa had said or whether she was just sick from being spun around in the air.

  Pippa shot me a grin as she put Lolly to her shoulder and patted her on the back. "I bet you're excited to see my long lost husband again too," she said with a wink.

  Last time I had seen him, he almost burned down the bakery we were standing in. Still, he had a certain charm and life had been a little dull without him. Then again, there is such a thing as too much excitement, isn't there? "I sure am," I said, turning my attention back to the cake, which I was about to ice with a mountain of almond and marzipan. The smell was sweet and delicious, or would have been on any other day. Right then, it was making me nervous.

  Marcello, Pippa's hubby, had been in Italy trying to figure out what he was doing with his life. For Lolly’s sake, and really Pippa’s too, I was glad he was back in the picture.

  "We can finally be a family again," Pippa said to Lolly.

  As I folded the marzipan over the top of the cake, I very determinedly bit my tongue.

  A family? That was good. Great, in fact. But what did it mean, practically? I knew that Marcello could be a bit...hmm...what is the word. Flaky would be putting it nicely. And mildly. Absent-minded was still too light a term. Complete human disaster. That was more apt. Was it totally evil of me to wonder what he would be like with a baby to take care of?

  The big question was: was he going to be living with us? Were we all going to live together as one big family? And was I going to have to be constantly on the lookout for fires he lit?

  "Maybe I should double check our renter's insurance," I said with a nervous laugh.

  "What?" Pippa asked.

  "Nothing."

  I was happy that Marcello was coming back. After all, I had a new boyfriend myself, so it would be nice for us both to be in happy, functional romantic relationships. I couldn't remember the last time we had been attached at the same time.

  "Oh no!" I said in dismay, staring down at the cake.

  "What is it?"

  "I tore the icing," I said, gulping as I thought about how Kenneth would react. He was kind of a perfectionist. And he kinda thought he knew better than I did when it came to baking. It was sort of a sore point between us.

  Pippa raised an eyebrow. "What's the boss going to say about that?" she asked knowingly.

  Speak of the devil.

  Kenneth was on the other side of the road, about to cross over. I quickly picked up the cake and ran to the back of the kitchen, hiding it before I raced back to the front just as Kenneth came through the door. He was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt and some of his tattoos were showing through the top of his tee. He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek while I tried to act innocent and hoped that I didn't smell like marzipan and that he wouldn't ask about the cake.

  "Are you excited for Valentine's Day?" Kenneth asked.

  "Erm..." I could tell that the answer he wanted me to give him was "Yes."

  Luckily, Lolly started to cry and stopped me from having to answer. Pippa just laughed. She had to be the most relaxed new mother in existence. "That is just how she shows her excitement," she said to Kenneth. "Marcello is coming back in three days."

  "Oh, is he really? Right before Valentine's?" Kenneth's eyes widened a bit and I could tell that there was an idea brewing away there inside his head.

  "Why don't the four of us celebrate Valentine's day together then?" Kenneth suggested. "A double date?"

  My eardrums were almost pierced by Pippa's shrill screaming. I supposed that was a 'yes' then, on her part.

  "Rach?" Kenneth asked, looking at me. "What do you say?"

  Did I have a choice?

  "Sounds great."

  Three Days Later.

  "Happy Valentine's Day!" Pippa cried out, clinking her wine glass first against Marcello's, then mine, and Kenneth's followed last.

  "Well, technically, this isn't Valentine's Day," I couldn't resist pointing out. We'd left it way too late to book a table—especially with a party of four—and we'd had to settle for Valentine's Day eve. But that was what we got for choosing the most expensive restaurant in Belldale. It was simply called Scott's, though I had no idea what that was supposed to reference. The food seemed more French than Scottish to me. The prices were more French as well. Marcello had graciously offered to pay, but I had this sinking feeling that meant that at the end of the night we'd all be in the kitchen washing dishes.

  I flipped the menu straight to the dessert section—wanted to check out my competition. "Ooh, they've got chocolate soufflé on the menu," I said, impressed. It was a dish that was a little complicated to prepare in a bakery but something that impressed me nonetheless. "I wish I could make desserts like this to serve at the bakery,” I murmured. "But they need to be served hot and we can't exactly make them to order.”

  Kenneth couldn't help himself from butting in. "Actually," he said, "soufflés can be served cold, and if you've cooked it to just the right temperature, it shouldn’t have any trouble keeping its shape and texture for a while till someone orders it. All you need to do is heat up the hot sauce to go over the top whenever someone orders one. I know exactly how to do it."

  I tried not to roll my eyes. He had a slight habit of needing to one-up me when it came to baking things. Pippa had already told me her point of view on the subject. "You should never date someone in the same industry as you are. You might think you have a lot in common, but it will only end in tears."

  I had ignored her. So what if Kenneth and I occasionally butted heads over work-stuff? He was great in practically every other way. He was cute, and funny, and he owned his own apartment in a super cool hipster part of Belldale. He knew all the best places to eat and where to get the best coffee. And he treated me really well. I co
uldn't say the same for every other guy I had dated.

  I smiled at Kenneth and changed the subject. "This restaurant is very impressive. Marcello made a good choice."

  Marcello grinned at me from across the table. His dark unruly curls were only slightly tamed for the evening, and he looked a little ill-suited in such a fancy suit. "Only the best for you guys! My Belldale family!" With that, he reached forward for the wine bucket and in one fell swoop managed to knock over both Pippa's and Kenneth's glasses of red, staining the white table cloth…and Pippa's white dress.

  She squealed a little and jumped up, splashing even more wine out in little red drops.

  "Hey!" a man with gray hair, wearing thick black glasses, called out from the next table. "Watch out! You're getting wine on me!"

  "Sorry, so sorry," Pippa said hurriedly.

  I buried my face in my palms. So it was back to business as usual with Marcello around, then. I could hear Kenneth laughing. At least he found it amusing, not humiliating.

  When I opened my eyes there was a young waiter with blonde spiky hair trying his best to mop up the mess. "I'm terribly sorry about this," he said, making even more of a mess. Was he related to Marcello?

  "You don't need to apologize," I said, trying to reassure him. "It wasn't your fault."

  "I will fetch you another bottle," he said. "On the house."

  But that offer clearly didn't go well back behind the bar because seconds later, we could see and hear the poor young man getting berated by a man in a large white chef's hat. It was just the two of them there, but the scene was loud enough to cause the patrons to look up in shock at the disturbance. "You can't just go giving away expensive wine, you idiot! You'll have to pay for this! Out of your own tips! And you will pay, Paul, one way or the other!"

  Pippa made a face. "Whoops. Guess he was just interested in getting a big tip from us and forgot that chefs can have big tempers about this sort of thing."

  The gray haired man with the thick-rimmed glasses threw down his napkin. "This restaurant is a disgrace!" he cried out before storming away from the table. I thought he was going to walk straight out but then I realized he was only headed toward the bathroom.

  The rest of us just waited awkwardly, wondering if our wine was actually coming or not. Things in the kitchen had gone eerily silent.

  After a few seconds, it was Pippa's turn to toss her napkin on the table. "I'm going to try and get some of this wine stain out," she said with a small smile as she headed the same direction the grey-haired man had gone.

  Only thirty seconds passed before Pippa came dashing back into the room.

  She headed straight for me and bent down. "Rachael," she whispered, frantic and white in the face. "You'd better come look at this."

  I looked at a confused Kenneth and excused myself. "Girl stuff," I said hurriedly while Pippa pulled me away. We passed the door of the kitchen and headed down a corridor to a small stock room.

  She was even whiter as she pushed the door open. "I thought this was the bathroom," she whispered, as I gasped at what I saw in there.

  It was our hapless waiter, lying dead on the ground.

  Chapter 2

  The head chef, still in his white chef's hat, paced back and forth in the back parking lot of the now deserted restaurant. "Oh, this is not good," he muttered over and over again, like a record stuck on repeat.

  It was only Pippa, Marcello, Kenneth, and myself left. An assistant manager had told all the patrons that they had to leave immediately due to the kitchen flooding.

  "Umm, has someone called the cops?" Pippa asked.

  The chef, whose name was Scott—so that was what the name was a reference to, then—spun around and glared at her. Semi-ignoring her question, he launched into a tirade. "Do you know what this is going to do to my business? On Valentine's eve?" He stomped over toward us and looked me straight in the eyes. "We are completely booked solid tomorrow—day and night! At four hundred a head for our Valentine's set menu! Do you have any idea how much money I am going to be out?"

  "Well, how many people are booked?" I asked, willing to do the math.

  He spun back around and started to pace again. The rest of us just stared at each other. "Well, I’m going to call the police," Pippa said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She shot me a sneaky look. "If you're really lucky, Rach, Jackson might be the detective they send down."

  I couldn't believe she had just said that with Kenneth standing right there. I mean, I really, really couldn't believe it. Was she actually on a mission to get the two of us to break up or what?

  "Who's Jackson?" Kenneth asked.

  "No one," I muttered, though I was suddenly on Chef Scott's side. Did we really have to get the police involved?

  After all, I wasn't just a baker. I was also something of an amateur detective. I cast an eye toward Scott, still pacing in the back of the parking lot. Did he know about my reputation?

  Leaving the other three, I strolled over to him and kept my voice low. Scott stopped pacing as began to speak.

  "You know, I have a lot of experience solving murder mysteries," I said bluntly.

  Scott's eyebrows shot up. "Murder?" There was a note of worry in his voice, along with total disbelief. "No one said this was murder," he said, putting his hands up. "Murder is only going to make my situation a hundred times worse."

  I pursed my lips. "Are you saying that his death was an accident?"

  "His name was Paul," Scott said, exhaling deeply as he took his chef's hat off and looked down at it in his hands. "He'd only been working here a week, poor kid. Thrown into the deep end during the busiest time of the year for restaurants."

  Thrown into the deep end by you, I thought. Yelled at, and humiliated, by you.

  But I tried to appear sympathetic. Or as sympathetic as I could in that moment. "Okay, Paul then," I said softly. "Do you really think that his death was an accident?"

  Scott's eyes were wild as he stared at me. "It has to be, or this place is going to be shut for who knows how long!" he shouted, pointing at the restaurant.

  His shouting had gotten the attention of the others and they were all staring at us. Pippa walked over, leaving the guys behind temporarily. "What is going on here?" she asked.

  Scott crossed his arms and frowned at her. "Does your friend here really have experience solving mysteries?" he asked.

  Pippa gave me a surprised look. "Yes..." she said slowly. "And so do I."

  "Huh." He paused for a moment and gave me a long, slow look before doing the same to Pippa. He was inspecting us, sizing us up, seeing if we were up to scratch.

  Finally, he spoke again. "Then I want you to find out what happened to my waiter," he said. "To Paul. I want this matter cleared up as soon as possible."

  I opened my mouth, in part to object, but Scott cut in. "This is worth a lot of money to me. So I am willing to pay you a lot to do a quick job of this."

  Pippa and I stared at each other. I didn't think either of us were quite sure how to react. We weren't really 'detectives for hire' and never charged for our time, apart from one time when we were tracking down a client's daughter. Was it right to take this guy's money?

  "I'll pay you ten thousand dollars," Scott said, cutting through the tension.

  "We’ll take it!" Pippa said quickly.

  But Scott wasn't done. "But you only get the money if you can solve this case by the lunch shift tomorrow. We open at eleven and I don't want to turn a single customer away on Valentine's Day."

  My mouth dropped open. "I don't think that's possible," I stated in disbelief.

  "Rachael!" Pippa hissed at me. "Of course we can do it. Think positive!"

  I was thinking positive. I was positive that taking on this case was a huge mistake. I glanced at Scott out of the corner of my eye.

  Especially considering that the person offering us the money was the person I most suspected of committing the crime.

  Pippa pulled me aside so that Scott couldn't hear us. "Come on," s
he said, pleading with me. "Now that Marcello is back and we are building our new life again, we could really use the money. And ten grand for one night's work?" Her eyes were wide as saucers. "You can't tell me that's a bad deal."

  I snuck a look over my shoulder at Scott. "Something tells me it's a very bad deal indeed. What if this is a deal with the devil?"

  Pippa sighed and stood up straight, her arms across her chest. "What about that poor young guy? Paul? Don't you want to find out who did this to him?"

  "What are you two talking about?" Scott shouted out, impatiently. "Do you want this job or don't you?"

  I turned back to Pippa and nodded. "Yes. I want to find out who did that to Paul."

  Pippa put her hand out for me to shake, which I reluctantly took. "Deal."

  I pulled my hand away while Pippa went to tell Scott that the deal had been struck.

  "But one night to solve a mystery?" I whispered to her when she got back, shaking my head. It seemed almost impossible.

  "Can it really be done?"

  "With us two working together," Pippa said firmly. "Of course it can be."

  Chapter 3

  I checked my watch. It was 9:00pm. We didn't even have a full twenty-four hours. We barely had twelve hours. Scott wanted the restaurant open again by the lunchtime Valentine's rush the next day, so we had to work fast.

  Pippa was being very firm with her instructions to Marcello. "Are you listening, honey? You need to go home, greet the baby-sitter..." She paused to pull a wad of cash out of her purse. "And pay her for the last few hours. Then you've got to go check on Lolly."

  I tuned out while she rattled off the list of baby-related tasks that I only hoped and prayed that Marcello was actually capable of. I kept having to remind myself that he was actually a grown man, an actual human, and that he had to be capable of looking after his own daughter. Right?