The Diva Frosts a Cupcake

by Krista Davis

  Myra leaned away from Maurice as though she didn’t want to be associated with him.

  His eyes shifted to her. Moaning, he grabbed his stomach. “Maybe Myra could drive me home.”

  Clearly appalled by the thought, the corners of her mouth jerked downward. She spoke softly. “I am not your date. And the only way I’d go anywhere near your home is in your dreams.”

  “Besides, she promised to help with the auction.” It was a big, horrible lie, but I liked Myra, and despised Maurice for being so obnoxious to her.

  Myra jumped to her feet. “I should be sitting at your table then, shouldn’t I?”

  “First Spenser poisons me with his cupcake. Now you’re embarrassing me in front of my girlfriend.” Maurice stood up and bent his slight frame, clutching his stomach.

  Seated at the next table, Spenser clearly heard Maurice’s accusation. “For pity’s sake, Maurice. Let it go already. Besides, I didn’t bake any of the cupcakes. They were all baked by my trusty crew here.” He smiled at the people seated at his table.

  In her soft voice, Myra protested, “And I am not your girlfriend. Stop saying that. People will start to believe you.”

  “Aw, snookums.” He reached out and grasped her arm.

  She stepped out of his reach. “Get away from me. It was bad enough having to sit beside you. Please just leave me alone.”

  “I’ll see you at home later.” He raised his head proudly. “I’d like the rest of my cupcakes, please.”

  He was nuts. Wong shot me a look that suggested she was thinking the same thing. He claimed to be poisoned by the cupcakes, but now he wanted more of them? The man twisted everything.

  Nina held her hand just below her neck. She swallowed hard, her jaw muscles tense. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

  “I think Wong has it under control. Why don’t you leave it up to the guests? I’ll handle Maurice. You talk to the guests.”

  Nina made her way to the podium. The loudspeaker crackled as she picked up the microphone.

  Wong walked Maurice to the entrance of the tent, and I followed, listening to Nina apologize to the guests. She was up front with them, saying she wasn’t sure if we should call off the rest of the feast. A chorus of boos filled the tent. Behind me someone yelled, “Bring more cupcakes!”

  Applause broke out as everyone got back to their merriment.

  I asked the headwaiter for Maurice’s share of the remaining cupcakes. Fortunately, Nina had thought ahead and provided cupcake boxes and doggie bags for those who wished to take home some of their dinners.

  I handed two boxes to Maurice. He had trouble holding them with Guinevere in his arms.

  “I’ll carry them to your car for you.” I didn’t want to, but frankly, I was glad that he was leaving, and was willing to do whatever might be necessary to speed up his departure.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He loomed over me. “I don’t have a dog in my car!” With that odd comment, he seized the boxes and strode off into the night.

  While it had never occurred to me that he might have Buddy in his car, his strange outburst piqued my curiosity. I waited until he was a good distance from me before I followed him. Two blocks later, he stopped by a small car and unlocked the door. He was careful and gentle with Guinevere. He folded himself into the driver’s seat and hastily closed the door, no doubt so Guinevere wouldn’t spring from the car.

  His head nearly hit the interior roof of the car. If he’d had Buddy, the silhouette of the big dog’s head would probably have been visible in the back seat. With a sigh, I returned to the party.

  Bernie had pulled chairs up to our table for Myra and Francie during my absence.

  The second I sat down, Nina asked Myra, “How do you feel about spying?”

  Myra thought a moment. “I suppose it’s politically necessary. To be honest, I’ve never given it much thought.”

  Nina held up her forefinger. “Necessary! That’s exactly it.” She lowered her voice. “You’re the only one who can get into Maurice’s house.”

  “You couldn’t get me in there for anything.”

  Nina launched into the sad story of Buddy’s disappearance, ending with “and he hasn’t been seen since.”

  “And you think he’s in Maurice’s house?”

  All eyes focused on poor Myra.

  “Oh! I see now. No, no, no. I don’t think so. Alone with him in his home? No way! Isn’t there someone else? He rents the upstairs apartment to Nick Rigas. He’s a slimy sort. Maybe he’d snoop around.”

  “At the very least, he might have heard Buddy bark,” I said.

  “Too bad he left with the general. I’d like to find out what he might know about Buddy.” Nina bit into her cheesecake cupcake.

  Natasha picked a corner off the cheesecake cupcake and sampled it. “At least no one can blame me for making the general sick. My cupcakes hadn’t been served.”

  I thought Nina might explode. “Why don’t you go right on up to the loudspeaker and announce which ones are your cupcakes?”

  Natasha glared at her. “No wonder Sophie didn’t bake cupcakes. She probably knew what a pill you would be.”

  Gritting her teeth, Nina hissed, “It’s not a popularity contest. People should vote for the cupcake that tasted the best—which you should be glad about, because if it were about popularity, Sugar Baby or Cake My Day would probably win.”

  Although I had enjoyed the savory cupcakes, I had to admit that the sweet ones were my favorites. The Blueberry Cheesecake Cupcake was delicious, though perhaps a bit too much like cheesecake. The Strawberry Cupcakes and Natasha’s Coco Loco Cupcakes, which combined dark chocolate with coconut, were superb. I wanted to love the Salted Caramel Cupcakes, but something wasn’t quite right. The base was a yellow cupcake with a hint of caramel and just a wisp of saltiness. The baker had carved out a divot in the center of each cupcake and filled it with caramel. That part was fabulous. But the icing, which contained caramel, tasted like paste. Whoever made them had used the caramel to make kitty stripes and piped the icing to look like fur. I felt sorry for the baker, because the little faces were so artistic, but the flavor of the frosting was far too much like elementary-school glue. A quick glance around confirmed that I wasn’t the only one who’d left most of that cupcake on my plate. I’d seen them come in on the Cake My Day truck, which meant they’d been baked by Spenser’s bakery, or by Renee. As much as I might have liked the others, the indulgence of sweet, creamy strawberry frosting, a tiny bit of a luscious strawberry surprise inside, balanced with a tiny portion of moist cake could not be beat. I voted for the Strawberry Cupcake.

  A team of waiters collected ballots, and when Nina trotted up to the podium for the auction, I stole away to the small tent with Humphrey and Francie to tabulate the results. When Nina selected her counting team, she’d taken care to choose people with no stake in the outcome. Of course, that was well before anyone realized that Humphrey had a thing for Renee.

  Only when he walked into the small tent did it occur to me that Renee’s interest in Humphrey might be directly related to his position as a counter of the ballots. It wasn’t like there was an incredible award at stake, just the honor and a very cute trophy. A black block base with a gold inscription—Cupcakes and Pupcakes Gala Dinner Best Cupcake. On top of the base sat a cupcake statuette consisting of a gold wrapper topped with enamel that looked like white frosting, topped with chocolate frosting, topped with raspberry frosting with a cherry on top.

  The three of us sat down at a table. Francie pulled out her reading glasses. “I’ll call them out,” she said. “Sophie, you keep track of the cupcake votes. Humphrey, you keep track of the pupcake votes.”

  It didn’t take long to realize that a lot of people felt as I did. The sweet cupcakes took the lead, though all the cupcakes received votes.

  The pupcake votes went in the savory direction. While the dogs liked their desserts, the chicken liver pupcake won their hearts.

  We wrote
the winners on cards and returned to the banquet tent, where the auction was still in progress. In spite of the general’s illness, life and laughter had returned to the festivities, and bidding between Spenser and another well-heeled Old Town resident had become spirited. Spenser finally conceded and allowed the other man to win. Applause broke out, as did a chorus of barking.

  I handed the results to Nina and returned to my seat. Na-tasha gripped Mars’s hand. I hadn’t seen any physical contact between them in a very long time. The pang that I felt at their tiny display of togetherness tore through me in a way I would never have expected.

  I barely noticed Nina congratulating the baker of the Strawberry Cupcake—one of Bernie’s employees at The Laughing Hound.

  The united hands at which I stared broke up when Natasha yanked her hand out of Mars’s, stood up, and said, “I demand a recount. Humphrey was biased because he’s smitten with Renee, and Bernie is his friend.”

  Renee drew a sharp breath and appeared on the verge of tears. Had Natasha’s outburst offended her so deeply?

  Bernie ran a hand over his face. “Blimey, Natasha! Couldn’t you lose gracefully just once in your life?”

  Mars rose and placed a hand on Natasha’s shoulder, which looked to me less like support and more like restraint. Martha took that opportunity to leap onto Natasha’s empty chair and up onto the table, where she nabbed the remainder of a Coco Loco Cupcake. Hands reached for her from all directions, but the clever dog evaded them, hopping down so fast she was little more than a blur.

  Bernie rose to chase her, shouting, “Stop that dog. She has dark chocolate in her mouth. It could kill her!”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Dear Natasha,

  I have never been fond of cupcakes. They’re just too sweet for my taste. I’ve been asked to bring them to our next bridge club party, but I can’t bring myself to make that sweet, fluffy icing. Are there any alternatives?

  —Savory Gal in Sugartown, New York

  Dear Savory Gal,

  Dip your cupcakes in melted chocolate. Or drizzle them with a glaze and sprinkle chopped nuts on top. The added bonus is that the frosting lovers won’t ask you to bring cupcakes to bridge club again.

  —Natasha

  Mars, Daisy, and I collided directly behind Bernie. We chased after Martha, but in single file we weren’t effective. When we reached the entrance of the tent, we came to an abrupt halt. This time, Martha had made good on her escape.

  Silently, the three of us scanned the park and surrounding area. Cars lined the street, providing plenty of shadows where Martha could hide. Not to mention the trees and bushes in the park. The streetlights offered ample light for walking, but not for locating little dogs.

  “Will she come if we call her?”

  “I doubt it,” said Mars. “We’ve only had her for a couple of days.”

  Nevertheless, we all called her name.

  “What if we split up and carry dog treats? Something she’d smell—like the chicken liver pupcakes,” I suggested.

  “It’s worth a shot,” said Bernie. “If she ate that chocolate cupcake, she’ll be in trouble soon.”

  “If we ever find her, I’m going to rename her Trouble,” grumbled Mars.

  I handed Daisy’s leash to Mars and poked my head into the cupcake tent. Luckily, a couple of the liver pupcakes remained. I grabbed them and returned to hand one to Mars and half of one to Bernie. We divided the area. Mars offered to check the cars along the street. He insisted on taking Daisy with him, saying she might alert him if Martha was hiding underneath a car.

  Bernie took the left side of the park, and I strolled out to the right.

  When I reached the edge of the river, I wished I had a flashlight. Even though the lights of the tent were bright in the distance, the dark river’s edge seemed a little sinister. A wind kicked up, and the water gurgled. I’d grown up in the country, so there was no reason for me to be afraid of the thickets of bushes, but I was uncomfortable nevertheless. Someone crashed through the brush. I paused, thinking it could be Martha, but heard a strange singsong voice.

  Instead of calling out Martha’s name, I shouted Bernie’s.

  “Did you find her?” he asked.

  Relief swept over me. I ran in the direction of his voice.

  “I don’t have her, sorry. Just got a little spooked. Someone is creeping around out there.”

  Bernie slung an arm around me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just wish we could locate Martha. Especially since she’s so small.”

  I could feel him nodding. “The smaller the dog, the darker the chocolate, the more dangerous the situation. Maybe we should come back with flashlights. She could be a meter away and we wouldn’t see her.”

  We walked across the grass and rounded the tents. Guests flooded out to their cars. Nina had arranged for valet parking as well, and a polite line had formed for that.

  Mars and Daisy met us. “From your empty arms, I’m guessing you didn’t find her,” said Mars.

  Daisy nuzzled my hand for the liver cupcake and ate it with gusto.

  “It’s too dark back there. I suggest we go home, change clothes, and return with flashlights.”

  “That’s about all we can do right now,” said Mars. “You know, Maurice is a very strange egg. After that fuss he made about not feeling well, would you believe he was out here on the sidewalk? It was bizarre. When he saw me, he took off down that way and disappeared in the dark.”

  “Sophie, I bet that’s why you were creeped out,” said Bernie. “Maybe you got a vibe that he was lurking in the bushes.”

  “Eww.” Chill bumps rose on my arms at the mere thought. “But why? Why run from Mars, and why hide?”

  “He didn’t want me to recognize him? Or to know he wasn’t really sick? Beats me. I’ll watch Daisy while you go home and change. Do you have any stinky meat or cheese?”

  I could have called Mars on that, but I knew what he meant. “I’ll sniff the fridge.”

  Instead of taking both cars, Bernie gave me a lift home. I changed into jeans that had enough spandex in them to make them feel comfortable and soft, even after a ten-cupcake meal. Mochie watched from my bed, but he’d curled up into a soft ball that indicated he planned to stay there for a nap. I found a teal three-quarter-sleeve T-shirt with a V-neck and managed to slide it on without messing up my hair. A pair of running shoes, and I was set to go. In case Nina wanted to join in the hunt, I stuffed drawstring pants and another Tee into a bag. She wore a larger shoe size, so I hoped she might have taken a pair of sneakers with her for the prep work before the dinner.

  Mochie purred when I stroked him, and I assured him I’d be home later. He didn’t seem worried.

  I took a minute to sniff the fridge for anything with a powerful scent. The best I could do was leftover lamb steak and a block of sharp cheddar cheese. When I grabbed my favorite flashlight, which pointed straight as well as down at my feet so I could see where I was stepping, it dawned on me to bring leashes, too, in case one of us nabbed her.

  Leaving a light on in the kitchen for Mochie, I locked the front door. Bernie pulled around in minutes. He drove to the park slowly so we could be on the lookout for Martha, and Buddy, too.

  He hit the brakes. “Do you see that?”

  I bent forward to look past him. In the dim recesses of an alley, a slender figure darted crazily from shadow to shadow. “Is that Maurice?”

  “I certainly hope he’s not up to no good. What peculiar behavior.”

  “I think he’s hiding from someone. What other reason would he have to run into the shadows and lurk like that?”

  “Martha’s more important than that nutter, Maurice.” Bernie drove on. “He’s off his trolley!”

  By the time we reached the park and the tent, only Nina, Francie, Natasha, Mars, Spenser, and Clarissa remained along with cleanup and break-down crews. Bernie passed out flashlights, and I handed out leashes, cheese, and chunks of lamb. Nina changed clothes.

>   Natasha pulled me aside. “Will she really die from eating chocolate? I think Mars and Bernie are trying to scare me as punishment for contesting the results, which I’m certain were wrong.”

  “I’m sorry, Natasha. It doesn’t take much chocolate to be lethal to a tiny dog like Martha.”

  It was rare for me to feel sorry for Natasha, but she looked so sad that I hugged her. “Maybe we’ll find her in time. Don’t give up hope yet.”

  “I feel so guilty. I . . . I was thinking about returning her to the breeder, but I didn’t want her to die.”

  “Natasha, it wasn’t your fault. She’s a fast little devil.”

  “It was the fault of the person who didn’t finish that cupcake.”

  That was ridiculous, too. But I didn’t point that out because she was already miserable.

  Nina returned, and we spread out in a line to canvas the park. Natasha still wore her beautiful gown, so she kept watch on the street and the tents with Francie and Clarissa while the rest of us ventured toward the river flicking our flashlights across the grass and under bushes.

  We neared the spot where I’d heard a strange voice. Loud and clear, someone was speaking gibberish. I aimed my flashlight into the bushes but didn’t see anyone.

  It was a woman’s voice I heard, and she continued speaking. “Come back to me. I can see you there, glittering. Why can’t I reach you? Nana? Oh, Nana! Don’t hate me.”

  We inched forward, and there at the edge of the river, on a rock that jutted out toward the water, stood Joy, her arms outstretched as though she were reaching for something in the depths of the river.

  Bernie whispered, “I hope she’s not planning to jump. Sophie and Nina, get as close to her as you can without endangering yourselves. Mars, Spenser, and I will walk around in back of her. When you see my light flash twice, distract her, and we’ll move in to grab her.”

  Branches cracked as they plowed through the bushes. Nina and I eased forward. We reached the edge of the river, and didn’t dare go farther. One more step and we would have fallen several feet and slid into the water.