by Krista Davis
“No.” After all, I had meant to trick him into saying something vicious, I just hadn’t anticipated that he would try to kick the poor dog.
Maurice sputtered something incoherent and slunk away. Nina secured the dogs in the pen while Francie and Wong examined my eye.
They didn’t say anything until Nina joined us, and said, “Man, but you’re gonna have a shiner!”
I covered my other eye. I could see fine. Francie pulled a mirror out of her purse. I peered into it. Sure enough, the skin around my eye was turning all sorts of pink and blue colors. Swell.
“Okay, everybody, I’ll be fine.” I wanted to focus their attention on something else already.
Wong’s radio spewed something unintelligible to me that appeared to have meaning for her. “I’ll come back later to check on you.”
“Hey! Anyone hungry?” I asked to get their minds off me. “I’m starved! We’re supposed to tell Bernie what we think.”
I opened the boxes to find enough food for eight people, even though Nina and Francie had already eaten some of it. I could see ham, turkey, roast beef, various cheeses, sprouts, lettuce, tomato, cucumber, and mustard in assorted sandwiches and roll-ups. There were a few tubs of a mouthwatering chicken salad with mangoes and avocados, as well as some with pasta that appeared to contain spinach and little specs of some sort of red pepper.
Nina whisked a fork into the chicken salad. “Oh! Oh!” Her mouth full, she murmured, “It’s a good thing I’m married, or I would latch on to Bernie and hang out in the restaurant all day.”
A couple ambled up to admire the cats. Nina set her food down to talk with them.
Francie excused herself for a powder room break, and I rushed a box of food over to Humphrey.
“How’s Renee?” I asked.
“She took it hard.” He craned his neck to get a better look at me. “What’s with your eye?”
I didn’t feel like going into details with people listening in. “I banged into something.”
“It looks terrible.”
He slid a cupcake into a box and accepted payment for it from a young woman. “I’m still having trouble believing that I saw Muffin with my own eyes, and that she’s dead.”
“It seems impossible. She just met us in the back when we delivered the desk. All cheery and adorable. How could this have happened?”
“I’m almost out of cupcakes.” He said it in a disconnected way. Like he was struggling to cope with mundane reality. “I don’t think Renee will be able to bake more. It would be unreasonable to expect that of her under these circumstances.”
As I passed him the box from The Laughing Hound, I realized Nina would have a new problem to deal with. “Renee was a featured baker for the dinner tomorrow night. And Joy worked with Muffin, too. I doubt either one of them will be up to baking.”
I cringed to have even considered anything of the sort. Muffin had been killed, and I was thinking about cupcakes and a massive dinner party.
Humphrey set the box aside. “Thanks for the lunch, but I’m not very hungry.”
I drifted back to the adoption booth, thinking through the ramifications of Muffin’s untimely death. People had come from all over, including bakers. It wasn’t like we could cancel Cupcakes and Pupcakes now.
Francie returned, and we had just begun to chow down when Bernie showed up with a baggie of crushed ice. “Heard you encountered an angry shoe.”
He handed it to me and insisted on examining my eye.
Nina told him the story, barely able to stop eating long enough to get it all out. I sat down and ate slowly, hampered by the ice I pressed against my black eye.
“Maurice, eh? He’s an odd one. Comes into the bar all the time expecting other people to pay for his food and drinks.” Bernie helped himself to a tub of pasta. “So how’s the lunch Moe made?”
We assured him it was terrific.
“I thought you would be stopping by for a bite today. I’ve had a rotten streak of bad luck with employees lately. I’m giving Moe a trial run. He claims he can cook, bake, make oven-fired pizza, schedule employees, and tend bar.”
“With all those skills, why is he on probation?” asked Francie.
Bernie swallowed a bite of the roasted red pepper and spinach pasta. “Nice flavor in this farfalle salad. Because, in my experience, when a bloke claims he can do it all, he usually can’t do any of it well.”
“He didn’t appear to be flustered by that mammoth crowd in the bar today,” I offered.
“He can cook. That’s for sure,” said Nina, selecting a lingonberry turkey sandwich.
“He uses interesting ingredients, but sandwiches aren’t much of a challenge.” Bernie cast a critical eye over them. “We’ll be busy with the cupcakes for the gala dinner tomorrow. I might give him a shot at the grill.”
Spenser ambled up. “What a day! Nightmare after nightmare. I suppose you heard about the murder at Sugar Baby.”
“Definitely murder?” asked Bernie.
Even though that came as no surprise to me, just hearing the word murder sent tremors to my fingers.
Spenser nodded. “That’s what I hear. A cop came by to ask if there’s anything someone would want to steal from a cupcakery. Cake My Day was hit last night. I guess they’re trying to figure out if there’s a connection.”
“Is there?” asked Francie.
“None that I know of. But the worst thing—” Spenser steadied himself by leaning against a table. He closed his eyes and a jagged breath shuddered out of him. “—I think I heard Muffin arguing with her killer. I was there! Dear heaven, I was there, but I didn’t go in. I’ll never forgive myself. I picked up my car and headed over to my cupcakery.”
“You couldn’t have known . . .” Nina’s voice tapered off, and her eyes met mine.
“Of course not.” Francie scowled at him. “People argue all the time. There was no way you could have known. And maybe you’re wrong. Maybe that argument was with someone else.” She shook her forefinger at Spenser. “I’ll hear no more of that. Don’t blame yourself!”
“She’s right, you know. But what did you overhear?” asked Bernie.
Spenser swallowed hard. “Muffin was shouting at someone about taking advantage of people. And then there was something about a ring.”
Joy! When we’d left Muffin earlier, she’d said she intended to speak to Joy about her treatment of Renee. “Did you hear who the other person was?”
Spenser shook his head.
“If I had heard what you just described, I wouldn’t have butted in,” I said. “Don’t blame yourself. How could you have foreseen that it would end tragically?”
“Thank you all for being so comforting. I fear I’ll never get over the fact that I didn’t intervene.” Spenser looked at the dogs in the pen. “Where’s Buddy?”
Nina sprang out of her seat, knocking the pasta salad over. “He’s gone!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dear Sophie,
I’m always seeing flyers about lost pets. It would break my heart if I couldn’t find one of my fur babies. How can I protect them?
—Worried Mom in Catts Corner, Maryland
Dear Worried Mom,
A collar is the place to start. Hang a tag on it with your contact information. They also make tags with QR (Quick Response) codes that can be scanned with a smartphone to access your contact information. Or consider a microchip implant, so that veterinarians, shelters, and rescue groups can contact you if they find your pet.
—Sophie
“Maurice!” Francie breathed the name that jumped to my mind.
“How could that have happened?” I asked.
“I bet he kicked you on purpose,” said Francie. “To create a distraction.”
“Bernie, you stay here, because you don’t know what Buddy looks like.” Nina motioned to Spenser, Francie, and me in a frantic gesture. “Everyone spread out. Maybe they’re still here.”
Seemed unlikely. If I had swiped a dog, I would have left
the area immediately. But we had to try. It was our only hope.
I took the outer perimeter of booths, peering over tables and under cloths. Anyone could have marched Buddy out without a soul noticing. There were dogs of every shape and size in every direction I looked.
Joy, newly of Sugar Mama Cupcakes and Renee’s former business partner and roommate, exclaimed over my eye. A ponytail the color of dark mocha hung halfway down her back. She must have been planning the split from Renee for some time, because she already wore a blue and brown apron imprinted with the words Sugar Mama.
I promised her that my eye wasn’t too bad. “I’m so sorry about Muffin. It’s a terrible tragedy.”
Her brown eyes reflected true sorrow and were rimmed red from crying. “I begged her to leave Renee and come with me. I can’t help wondering if she would be alive now if she had.”
The thought sent chills down my back. It must have been a major decision for Muffin. If only she had chosen differently. But no one could have anticipated that she would die because she stayed with Renee. And we didn’t know what had happened. Maybe her killer would have sought her out across the street at Sugar Mama.
I wanted to dally longer, but we had no time to lose. “One of the dogs that was up for adoption is missing. We’re looking for him. A big black and tan dog, wearing a yellow bandanna with pink cupcakes. Let me know if you spot him.”
“Oh no. Poor baby. Nick! Nick?”
Like magic, Nick emerged from the crowd. I’d seen him around town. His pretty boy face, smoldering eyes, and easy smile made him very hard to ignore. Joy told him about Buddy, and I described the dog to him.
“I’ll scout around. If I see him, I’ll bring him to the adoption booth.”
Thanking them, I hurried on. Dog owners had brought their best friends with them. Dogs were everywhere I looked. Still, among all the dogs, there was no sign of Buddy.
I trudged back to the adoption booth, fearing the others had as little success as I. Their grim expressions confirmed the worst. No one had seen Maurice or Buddy.
“How could he have pulled that off?” asked Francie. “We were all here. How is it possible that no one noticed him?”
Nina scowled. “He must have been watching us, and moved fast when I had my back turned to deal with the cats and you two left for a few minutes. I never did like that man.”
She pulled out her cell phone. “I’m calling Wong. She saw how he acted and that he tried to take Buddy without my consent before. Maybe she can go to his house and demand Buddy’s return. I’m so sorry, Spenser!”
He nodded, but the disappointment on his face made his feelings painfully clear. He’d been taken by that dog.
Bernie offered him a sandwich.
Spenser took it and thanked him. He sat down in one of our chairs and held the sandwich in his hands. “They say trouble comes in threes. This was number three for me today. I only saw one of them coming.”
“What’s going on between you and Maurice?” Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, but the words came out of my mouth before I considered them.
Spenser turned his sandwich around in his hands as though he was studying it, but I had the feeling he wasn’t seeing it.
“He blames me for his misfortune, but I’ve never done a thing to the man.”
“I got hold of Wong,” Nina announced. “Spenser, want to come with us?”
He reflected for a moment, before saying, “Maybe it will go better if he doesn’t see me.”
Nina took a selection of sandwich halves with her to share with Wong and left me in charge of the booth. So far I’d managed to make a royal mess of things.
Bernie and Spenser went back to work, and a darling boy fell in love with the dog with the brown spot around her eye.
I hitched a leash onto her collar. She couldn’t have been more than six months old and wanted to kiss everyone. Fortunately, she kissed the right little boy. His dad filled out the adoption form while I waited with the boy and his mom, kneeling next to the puppy. A masculine hand with strong fingers slid over the puppy’s head and ever so briefly grazed my hand.
Alex had squatted on the other side of the puppy. His eyes opened wide in shock when he saw my eye. “Are you all right? That looks painful.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m not!” We looked up at Natasha, who was showing off her bandaged right arm. “I don’t understand why she bites me.”
“Where is Martha?” I asked.
“Right here. Isn’t this the smartest thing?” She pulled a dog stroller from behind her. Martha growled and bit at the mesh front.
I could imagine great uses for them, but this puppy needed to wear herself out by walking and running. At least she wouldn’t escape again.
“I brought you a little present,” she trilled, handing Alex a box wrapped in her signature robin’s-egg blue and tied with a lacy bow. “It’s a DVD of my best shows.”
Alex stood up and accepted it graciously, pecking her on the cheek.
“Maybe you’d like to come to the studio with me one day? And you simply must come to dinner while you’re visiting. I’ll set it up with the general.”
“Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“Did Sophie tell you I was a beauty queen?”
“She must have forgotten to mention that. I can’t say I’m surprised.”
I admired his deft handling of Natasha, but she irritated me. She already had Mars. Would she never go away?
“Look over there. Isn’t that a photographer from the newspaper?” It was a lie. A terrible, mean thing to do. But it worked. Natasha spun that stroller around faster than Superman could fly and propelled it across the plaza.
“Is this your dog?” Alex asked the little boy.
The boy gazed up at his mom for reassurance. Nodding, he wrapped his arms around the puppy’s neck.
“What are you going to name her?” asked Nick.
“Princess Isabella von Humperdink,” the boy answered without hesitation.
His mother smiled. “I’m thinking Bella.”
I promised their application for adoption would be on the top of the pile. When they walked away, Alex promised I would keep Bella for the boy.
Francie had a twinkle in her eye and nudged me. “He’s adorable!” she whispered.
I knew she didn’t mean the kid. Alex seemed too nice to be true.
Francie held out her hand. “I’m Sophie’s neighbor, Francine Vanderhoosen. What’s your marital status, young fellow?”
I wanted to dive under the table with Daisy. She had other ideas, though, and belly-crawled toward Alex to sniff his shoes.
He reached down to pat her and didn’t seem a bit perturbed by Francie’s nosiness. “I’m separated from my wife.”
To anyone else, that might have been a good thing, but to me it meant he wasn’t available yet.
Francie crossed her arms over her chest. “Hmpff. And what is it you do for a living?”
His grin was enchanting. How dare he be so charming when he wasn’t single yet?
Clearly amused by Francie’s question, he said, “I’m an attorney in Richmond. Three hamsters, two step-kids, one cockapoo. My mom taught fifth grade, my dad was a CPA. They’re retired now and spend half the year in a fancy motor home. I make a Bloody Mary that you won’t believe, and I’m an expert on the barbecue grill, if I do say so myself. Did I omit anything?”
“You seeing anybody?” She observed him with a dubious squint.
“If you need a date for the cupcake feast tomorrow night, I would be honored to escort you.”
Francie, his senior by a good twenty or more years, tucked her head and wiggled her hand in embarrassment. “Pick me up at five thirty. I don’t want to be late and miss out on anything.”
Alex wrote down directions to her house and promised to be on time.
As he walked away, she leveled a stern look at me. “If you don’t date that boy, I will!”
By the time Nina returned an hour later
, several adoptions awaited her approval.
“Well?” Francie and I couldn’t contain ourselves, even though we were eager to see the other dogs and cats in homes.
“He claims he doesn’t have Buddy.” Nina smiled at people waiting to adopt, and started processing their applications. “He refused to let us into his house. If Buddy was there, he wasn’t barking.”
My heart sank. What had he done with that poor dog? Was Buddy wandering the streets? I had to push away thoughts of what might happen to him.
In a slow trickle, we emptied the dog pen and the cat cages.
The timing proved perfect. The next shift arrived with new dogs and cats for adoption.
Nina whispered to me, “I’ve never been so glad to turn anything over to someone else. I’m beat.”
She told them the heartbreaking news about Buddy. “Watch out for Maurice Lester. He’s tall and gangly with white hair that hangs down to his chin. Don’t be fooled—he doesn’t like dogs. Do not allow him to adopt any animals and keep an eye on him. I can’t imagine that he would steal another dog, but you never know. Also, I’ve been told not to adopt to Nick Rigas, but I’m not sure about the validity of that one, so if he comes along wanting to adopt, have him fill out the adoption form and tell him you’ll get back to him.”
She smoothed the fur on Daisy’s head. “I know you’re exhausted . . . and you’ve been through a terrible trauma today, but could you please help me put up missing flyers about Buddy?” Nina cocked her head at us with the saddest expression I’d ever seen.
“Don’t be silly. I’m behind you all the way.” I couldn’t bear the thought of what might be happening to Buddy.
Nina handed me her phone. Would you round up some volunteers? I’m going to set up a flyer and make copies across the street. I’ll meet you back here.”
“I’m going to stretch my legs and buy some treats for Duke. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” said Francie. The set of her mouth told me she was determined to find the missing dog.
I headed to the Sugar Baby booth to recruit Humphrey, but on the way I spied a cute cat hammock for my Ocicat, Mochie. A throwback to one of his American shorthair ancestors, Mochie’s fur didn’t have spots. He had the classic M on his forehead and spots on his tummy, though. The hammock had the Ocelot-type spots Mochie lacked, and I thought he would enjoy the comfort of the hanging bed.