The Diva Frosts a Cupcake

by Krista Davis

  The center of Old Town bustled with people. We turned right and faced the rival bakeries, Sugar Baby and Sugar Mama.

  “Joy first?” asked Nina.

  “She might not be back at work yet. How are we going to find out more about her taking Sugar Baby’s money? It’s not like we can come right out and ask.”

  “We should have brought Francie. She doesn’t seem to care about being polite. What if we tell her that we’re worried about Humphrey and his relationship with Renee? Maybe she’ll tell us the scoop about her.”

  Armed with that intention, we proceeded to Sugar Mama. The door was locked, though, and the closed sign hung on it.

  “Do you guess she’s home from the hospital?” asked Nina. “Maybe she’s still recuperating from the poison.”

  “Or the drugs.”

  We jaywalked across the street to Sugar Baby, easy to do in Old Town, where cars didn’t move very fast. Even before we entered, I could see Renee smiling at customers. She wore her trademark pink apron and looked as though nothing terrible had ever happened there. The makeshift memorial to Muffin had already vanished, along with the police tape. How quickly we moved on. It wasn’t fair to Muffin or her memory.

  I pushed the door open, and the little bell tinkled merrily. The customers left, and Nina and I caught Renee alone.

  “Looks like business is good,” I said.

  She hurried out from behind the counter. “Where’s Humphrey? I’ve been calling him for hours, but he doesn’t answer.” She didn’t wait for a response. She clutched her forehead with nervous fingers. “Someone almost broke into the bakery last night. I’m scared to death.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Dear Sophie,

  How can I cover cupcakes to store them? The wrap or foil always destroys the cute frosting.

  —Can’t Get Enough Cupcakes in Cold Spring, Minnesota

  Dear Can’t Get Enough Cupcakes,

  Use toothpicks! Stick three to four toothpicks in each cupcake to hold the wrap away. It works for cakes, too!

  —Sophie

  I was inclined to believe Renee, because her chest heaved heavily, as though she was extremely agitated.

  “What happened?” asked Nina.

  “Did you call the police?” I motioned to a table, and we all sat down.

  “It was early in the morning.” Her fingers balled into little fists. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I was dreaming about Muffin. It was as though she came to me in my dream, and she scolded me for not changing the locks. I woke up and went downstairs to be sure I had locked up. When I reached the bottom, I could hear someone messing with the lock on the back door. I screamed my head off and shoved one of these chairs under the doorknob at an angle so he couldn’t get in if he managed to unlock it.” She bent forward and hid her face in her hands.

  Nina patted her back.

  When Renee sat up, she drew her hands down her face, and she could hardly breathe. “Just remembering it is giving me chills. I called the cops and ran back up the stairs. When I looked out my bedroom window, I saw him running away. It wasn’t my imagination. Somebody tried to break in.”

  “Could you tell it was a man?” I asked. She was so frightened that my own pulse raced.

  “Not really. I guess it could have been a woman. It’s dark out in the alley. I didn’t see much.”

  “What did the cops say?” asked Nina.

  “To change the locks. The locksmith is working on the back door right now. He’s adding a deadbolt, and he’ll do the front door next. An electrician should be here any minute to add a spotlight in the back of the store. And Spenser is sending someone over to install an alarm system.”

  “Spenser?” That was interesting.

  “I couldn’t reach Humphrey, and I just didn’t know what to do, so I called Spenser. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to burden you with my problems. I’ve been trying so hard to keep a cheery face since Muffin’s murder. It hasn’t been easy, but if I don’t do that, people won’t come here, and I’ll be out of business.” She bit her upper lip. “I’m scared witless. I’ll feel better once all the security measures are in place. Spenser says I’ll be safer here than anywhere else. There’s even going to be an alarm that goes off if someone breaks one of the storefront windows.”

  I wanted to ask about Joy gently, but there just wasn’t any way to pussyfoot around it. “Does Joy suffer from a drug addiction?”

  “Oh, my word, no! I never would have gone into business with anyone into drugs. That would have been a guaranteed nightmare.”

  “I wanted to thank you for being such a trouper and baking cupcakes for the feast in spite of everything that happened.” Nina smiled at her. “I was so busy searching for Martha that I never had a chance to chat after the cupcake feast.”

  Renee wove her fingers together over the logo on her apron. “I’m lucky most people don’t know about my inedible frosting at the cupcake feast. What a disaster. Nothing like that has ever happened to me in all my years of baking. I don’t know what went wrong with the frosting on the Salted Caramel Cupcakes. Spenser thinks I mixed up the flour and the powdered sugar.”

  “I’ll take six of the Tres Leches Cupcakes,” said Nina.

  When I looked to her in surprise, she said, “Humphrey and Francie might want one.”

  Renee rose and pulled out a box for the cupcakes. “Where is Humphrey? He usually stops by for a cupcake in the morning, but I haven’t seen him.”

  “Usually stops by? Every day?” I asked.

  Renee raised her chin with pride. “Some people are addicted to our—my—cupcakes. Humphrey is here every single day. Muffin always worried about him when he didn’t show up on time.”

  Muffin’s name had rolled off Renee’s tongue easily, but a cloud passed over her sunny expression. She stopped working and winced. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget that she’s not here anymore. I keep thinking she’ll walk in the door and tell me an outrageously funny story about what happened to her on the way to work.”

  “It must be hard for you to sleep upstairs.” The words slid out of my mouth, and I immediately regretted them.

  “It is! I don’t know what I’m going to do. I might just rent out the unit upstairs. Do you think I’d find a tenant? Would anyone rent an apartment where someone had been murdered? On the other hand, it’s so convenient to be right here at the bakery. I never have to worry about working late or dealing with traffic. It’s almost a luxury. Once the locks, and lights, and bells and whistles are installed, it will be super safe. And I love living in Old Town. But I know I’ll never be able to sleep in my bedroom again.” She winced. “I never wanted to look under the bed, but when the police let me come home, I found sugar ants trailing under there.”

  “Frosting!” I said.

  “How did you know?”

  “A dollop landed on my shoe.”

  Renee nodded. “She must have been gripping an icing bag in her hand when she was killed. Frosting was all over underneath the bed.”

  Nina wrinkled her nose. “Where are you sleeping?”

  “Humphrey loaned me one of those big inflatable mattresses. I put it in the living room. I have to try to block out what happened to Muffin, but it’s hard.”

  I believed her. I didn’t think her distress was fake. Of course, even if she had murdered Muffin, she could still be distressed by it. But if Renee had murdered Muffin, why would someone have tried to break in last night?

  “Do the police have any leads?” I asked.

  “Not any that they’ve mentioned to me. Muffin was a sweetheart. No one hated her. She even slipped that dreadful Maurice Lester a free cupcake now and then.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Renee’s mouth pulled tight. “That man won’t pay for anything. He and Nick Rigas. Talk about tightfisted. For some reason, they think everyone should just hand them whatever they want. I would never have the audacity to ask for free food at a bakery. Seriously”—she waved her hands as though showing us the b
akery—“do they really not understand that this is a business? Who does that? I don’t go to restaurants and expect free food. And Maurice of all people! He knows how hard it is to make it as a cupcakery. I got so mad at poor Muffin, because I won’t put up with freeloaders. Maurice was like a neighborhood dog—slip him a treat once and he comes by every day looking for another one.”

  She brushed a dusting of powdered sugar off her apron. “If he’d been destitute, well, that would have been different. It’s not as though I have no compassion for those in need, but I see no reason to feed him for free. He can fork it over as far as I’m concerned.”

  “That’s what was going on at your booth,” I said. “We thought he was acting odd.”

  “I gave him a cupcake as a bribe to get rid of him. He can be a pest and mean! I was afraid if I didn’t give him a cupcake, he’d hang around and bad-mouth me to other customers.” Renee came around to the front of the case. “Joy, Muffin, and I used to categorize people as cupcakes. For instance, Humphrey is plain vanilla, with a dependable plain chocolate frosting—no surprises there. Spenser is like one of these Chocolate Hazelnut Raspberry Cupcakes. He’s multilayered and complex, but inside, there’s a soft, sweet raspberry filling. His wife, do you know Clarissa?”

  We nodded. I couldn’t wait to get her assessment of Clarissa.

  “She’s our Peanut Butter Surprise. A familiar flavor when you bite into it. But inside, it’s not jam, like you might expect. It’s chipotle chocolate, and it’s all nutty on top. Oh, I shouldn’t bore you with my silliness!”

  “This is fun!” said Nina. “Who else has a cupcake?”

  “Let’s see. Nick Rigas is like these, which are a huge hit with women customers—devilishly rich chocolate, with a soft dark chocolate truffle inside and this gorgeous piped top. They look so pretty, but there’s a lot going on. And that cute policewoman, Wong, is definitely her favorite cupcake. Red Velvet. There’s nothing ordinary about her, but what you see is what you get—a no-nonsense cupcake. And this Pink Coconut was Muffin—sweet, innocent, and yet fun and unexpected.” She released a long breath, and the momentary happiness vanished. “I can’t understand why anyone would have wanted her dead.”

  “Are you afraid that the killer was looking for you?” asked Nina.

  Nina’s question must have caught Renee by surprise. She stared at Nina. “I wasn’t before last night. What could I have done to make somebody that angry?”

  “We should be going,” said Nina, paying for her purchase.

  “Tell Humphrey to stop by when he has a chance,” said Renee.

  I debated ordering a sampler for my clients. What if she was the murderer? Would she poison us? Surely not. But out of an abundance of caution, proving to myself that I still didn’t completely trust Renee, I didn’t say a word about the sampler.

  I waved good-bye, wondering if the adorable petite blonde in the darling apron could have murdered Muffin. When we were outside and walking away, I said, “She was so nice. No wonder Humphrey is smitten. And she couldn’t be any cuter.”

  Nina stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk. “Where does Joy live now? Over top of her new bakery?”

  We turned to look at the second story of the building across the street.

  My phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket and pushed the button to answer it. Francie’s voice said, “Mission accomplished. Tonight at eight o’clock. We promised you would be outside with us.”

  She didn’t wait for me to say anything. She just clicked her phone off.

  I chuckled. “I think Francie is having a good time playing detective. Apparently Myra agreed. We’re on for eight o’clock tonight.”

  Nina pressed her hands together as though in prayer. “I hope we find that poor dog. He weighs on my conscience. It’s my fault that he’s lost, because I was responsible for him. What if he’s wandering the streets somewhere or was hit by a car?”

  I’d had the same terrible thoughts. The image of poor, big Buddy lost and alone tore at me. “No, it’s my fault. I knew you were busy, and that Francie was off to the ladies’ room, and I took lunch over to Humphrey anyway. If I had stayed put in the booth, Buddy wouldn’t be missing. Let’s hope Myra sees him at Maurice’s tonight.”

  Nina pointed across the street. “I don’t think Joy lives over Sugar Mama. It looks like there’s an antiquarian book dealer up there. See the door to the left of the shop?”

  “Rats. We’ll have to ask around to find out where she is. Are you game to go to Cake My Day? I’d like to speak with Spenser.”

  “Sure. I’m always up for visits to cupcakeries.”

  Cake My Day was located a good ten blocks away. We decided that would surely work off the calories of one or two cupcakes. We didn’t walk as briskly as we intended, though, because we kept stopping to window-shop.

  Nina poked me while we peered at the window display of The Yuppy Puppy. “Is that Natasha?”

  A woman dressed like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s browsed in the store. Huge, dark sunglasses covered half of her face. A scarf wrapped around her head and neck, and she wore a stunning sleeveless black sheath.

  Giggling, we dodged inside. Natasha picked up item after item. Apparently she was having trouble seeing them well with the dark sunglasses. She lifted the glasses and peered below the rims, turning each item over and examining it.

  “Natasha?” I called.

  She stiffened. Turning casually, as though she hadn’t heard me, she lowered her head to look over the glasses. Holding her head high, she marched past us and left the store.

  Naturally, we followed her.

  She walked a few yards, stopped, and removed the sunglasses. Gesturing madly, she hissed, “I was on a spy mission.”

  Nina and I laughed aloud. Surely she didn’t think she was fooling anyone in that getup. In fact, she was probably attracting attention. “Who are you spying on?”

  “Not who. I’m doing corporate spying.” She unwrapped the scarf. “It’s getting hot out here. How did women wear these things in the summer?”

  “You’re spying on The Yuppy Puppy?” asked Nina.

  “No, I’m spying on the things they sell. I can’t believe I’ve been so blind. All these years I’ve baked and sewn and crafted, but I just can’t get a national TV show. I’ve overlooked the obvious! It’s all about dogs. Dogs are the new children. I don’t know how I never saw it before.”

  I wasn’t following. Actually, I hadn’t gotten over dogs are the new children.

  “People used to do domestic things for their husbands and children. But now it’s all about their dogs. Dog beds, dog clothes, dog jewelry, dog cuisine. While I’ve been focusing on people, the world has gone to the dogs!”

  “Speaking of dogs, where is Martha?” I asked.

  “Hmm? Oh, I left her in Mars’s study. He doesn’t mind the fur.”

  “Alone? You left that little dog alone?” Nina clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “What’s wrong with that? Daisy stays in there all the time.”

  “Daisy isn’t a puppy,” I said. “She’s outgrown the chew-and-tear phase.”

  “What could she possibly do? There’s nothing in there of any interest to anyone except Mars. You’re pulling my leg, right?”

  She studied us, and her eyes widened in horror. “Excuse me, I think I left something on the . . . in the . . . I have to go.”

  She took off at top speed for someone wearing high heels on brick sidewalks.

  Nina shook her head. “What was she thinking?”

  We strolled on to Cake My Day. I came to a dead stop outside. What had I been thinking? I’d forgotten all about Clarissa’s ridiculous notion that I was sleeping with her husband. “You don’t think Clarissa comes down to the cupcakery, do you?”

  “Want me to go in and scope it out for you first?”

  I sucked in a deep breath. “No. I have a completely clear conscience. There isn’t a reason in the world for her to be upset with me. If she’s there, we�
��ll just buy some cupcakes and leave.”

  We walked inside. No sign of Clarissa. While I asked to speak to Spenser, Nina eyed their assortment of cupcakes.

  “What do you like better?” she asked. “Cookies and Cream, Orange Dreams, or Lemon Meringue?”

  “Don’t you have a dozen cupcakes in the box in your hand?”

  “It would be rude not to buy any!”

  Spenser ambled out of the back. “Nina! Sophie! I hope this means you have news about Buddy.”

  Nina assured him we were working on it.

  His face fell. “Oh no. I know why you’re here, then.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Dear Natasha,

  I want to bake cupcakes. They seem so much easier than a whole cake. Do I have to grease the cupcake pan if I’m using cupcake liners?

  —New Baker in Bakers Mill, Florida

  Dear New Baker,

  As long as you put cupcake liners in your cupcake pan, you do not need to grease it. However, if you do not use cupcake liners, grease the pan well so your cupcakes won’t stick to it.

  —Natasha

  Spenser beckoned to us. “There’s a little spot out back where we can talk in private. Iced mocha frappé okay with everybody?” He ushered us to a back door and pointed at a tiny table with a striped umbrella. “This is where my employees take their breaks in nice weather. I’ll be right with you.”

  “What’s that about?” asked Nina.

  We sat down at the table. “I have no idea, but I’m willing to hear what he has to say.”

  Spenser showed up in minutes carrying a tray of assorted mini cupcakes and three iced mocha frappés.

  Nina swooned. “Be still, my heart. It’s a good thing I’m not your wife. I’d eat like this every day. Ooo, is this lemon?”

  Spenser smiled. “Meyer lemon. Clarissa doesn’t much care for cupcakes anymore. When you’re around them all the time, I guess they begin to lose their appeal. Given her druthers, she’d choose lobster over a cupcake any day.”

  Nina wasted no time biting into a cupcake.

  Spenser massaged his face as though he was uncomfortable. “I feel terrible. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was Humphrey’s car. Maybe I wouldn’t have called the police if I had realized that. Or maybe I would have. I don’t know. It was all so unexpected, that I called the cops immediately without giving it much thought.”