by Krista Davis
I seized hold of that tiny corner of fabric and pulled out a cupcake bandanna exactly like the one Buddy had worn. “I don’t think I was wrong.”
“I’m sure they sold more than one of those.”
“She doesn’t have a dog. Why would she have bought one?”
“Because she expected Spenser to bring Buddy home?”
“Spenser left her that day.”
Nina grabbed the bandanna. It flew like a flag in her hand when she ran down the stairs. “Spenser, Buddy is here somewhere.”
“The basement.” Why hadn’t I thought of that to begin with?
I ran through the hallway to the kitchen and flung open the door. Buddy looked up at us like he wondered why we’d taken so long. Nina and I cheered.
No dog had ever been hugged or patted more. His tail whipped back and forth.
Spenser came running. He fell to his knees and clutched Buddy like a long lost friend.
“He looks okay.” Nina ran her hands over him. “What’s she been feeding him?”
I opened some cabinets. “Looks like canned dog food and kibble.” Unfortunately, they also had a box of xylitol, a sugar substitute. “Does Clarissa bake much? She wouldn’t have fed Buddy anything with xylitol, would she?”
“Clarissa hasn’t turned on the oven in years. We live off of takeout.”
That was a relief.
“If it’s okay with you, Spenser, I’ll swing Buddy by the vet’s just to be sure he’s okay,” said Nina.
“That’s fine. I’ll pick up the tab. In fact, I’ll go with you.” He was still hugging Buddy when he said, “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what possessed Clarissa. She must have seen the flyers. She must have known we were all looking for him.”
“Spenser, the day that we came for the desk, you and Clarissa had just had a big blowout of an argument. Did that have anything to do with Buddy?” I asked.
He finally released his grip on Buddy and stood up. “I told her about Buddy. I was so excited about him, like a little kid.” He ruffled the fur on Buddy’s neck. “The argument was about you. She confronted me and wouldn’t believe that we weren’t having an affair. Then you showed up on our doorstep.” He snorted. “Kind of funny when you think about it.”
Buddy sniffed the kitchen floor while we talked.
“Why would she steal him?” asked Nina.
Spenser squeezed his forehead between his palms. “I have no idea. I feel like I’m married to someone I don’t know anymore. Why would she sell all our stuff? I can’t explain anything she does.” He lunged toward Buddy, grabbed his collar, and pulled him away from potted plants on the floor. “You don’t want to mess with that, Buddy. It’s thorn apple.”
“Is that the same thing as jimsonweed?” I asked.
“Might be. All I know is it’s poisonous. Clarissa likes the way it blooms out back in the summer. It’s very showy, with loads of big blossoms. I wish it weren’t poisonous. Clarissa brings it in every winter so it won’t die.”
Nina pulled out a leash and collar she’d brought along.
Spenser latched them onto Buddy, who appeared to enjoy all the attention. We headed for the front door.
Spenser locked it behind us and sucked in a deep breath. “I need to have a long talk with Clarissa. You don’t think the police will press charges, do you?”
“After what she put us through?” cried Nina.
Spenser nodded somberly. “Even after all that.”
I walked home alone, wondering about Clarissa. Were Bernie and I the only people who wouldn’t want such a poisonous plant around? Even if it was incredibly beautiful?
I phoned Francie on the way back to tell her the good news about Buddy. “How would you like to come over for a late lunch?”
“I’ll meet you in your backyard in half an hour.”
I told her she’d better come to the kitchen and use my front door.
Sometimes I wondered if Mochie was lonely when Daisy stayed with Mars. I needn’t have worried. He was sprawled in his new hammock bed and didn’t even open one eye when I checked on him. But through the large sunroom windows, I could see out my open gate. The police were still checking things in the alley.
Humphrey had settled in my small family room with the drapes drawn. “To escape prying eyes,” he explained. He was delighted to hear that Buddy had been rescued.
I headed to the kitchen to make a quick lunch. I poured pineapple juice into a pot with red quinoa and put it on the stove to cook. A little olive oil in a pan, and three chicken breasts were sautéing in no time. I sliced fresh strawberries, creamy avocados, juicy kiwis, and tangy pineapple spears, and set them aside. I squeezed tart lemons and added the juice to iced tea for a refreshing drink.
When the quinoa had finished cooking, I mounded it on three white plates. I sliced the chicken breasts and laid the strips across the quinoa, then surrounded them with the avocado and fruit. In case someone wanted a dressing, I whisked together a cherry balsamic vinaigrette.
I threw a sky blue tablecloth on the table and added the plates and yellow napkins. Francie barged in my kitchen door with Duke. “What in Sam Hill is going on out there?”
Humphrey joined us. We sat down to eat and filled her in on the strange events of the morning.
“I’m surprised you didn’t hear anything,” I said.
“I heard the sirens, but didn’t think much of it. So who do you think the mystery guy could be? Any chance it’s that louse Maurice?” she asked.
“Not unless he cut his hair and dyed it. The guy had nice, thick dark hair.”
Humphrey’s mouth twisted as though he wanted to say something but was uncomfortable about it. “Sophie, I didn’t want to upset you, but I think it’s Alex.”
“What?” I nearly choked. “Why would you think a thing like that?”
“Right build, right coloring. Dressed kind of snazzy. I knew he was trouble.”
“No!” cried Francie. She frowned at Humphrey. “I attended the cupcake feast with Alex. He was a lovely, attentive gentleman all evening. Why would you say such a thing?”
“None of this tumult started until he came to town.”
“That could be a coincidence,” I insisted. But I hadn’t heard from him about the general and Clarissa, either. I excused myself to call him but got his voice mail. It wasn’t him, I was sure of it. At least, that was what I kept telling myself. Humphrey had been right about the size and coloring, though.
On my return, Francie wanted to hear the saga of locating Buddy. “I’m so thrilled. I’ve worried about him every day. I can’t tell you how many e-mails I sent asking people to be on the lookout for him.”
“I think Buddy will be in good hands with Spenser.” At least, he would be if my newest theory about Clarissa panned out. “So tell me more about jimsonweed.”
Francie put down her fork. “Uh-oh. I know you too well, Sophie Winston. What’s up?”
“Just how poisonous is this stuff? Could you, I don’t know, put a little bit on a hatpin and scratch someone with it? Would that kill them?”
“Oh ho! Like Agatha Christie!”
“She did that?”
“I believe she used a thorn and snake venom, but that’s so hard to find. Jimsonweed is everywhere. And if you don’t have any, you can order seeds from a nursery. It’s all very legal.”
“Or you could have it growing in your very own house.”
“Yes, you could.” Francie scowled at me. “Did you see it in someone’s house?”
“Clarissa has it in her kitchen.”
“Oh, that’s terribly dangerous. There was a woman who mistakenly used the seeds in a stew and made everyone ill. I think you could be on to something. Did you know that kids try it to get hallucinations?”
I eyed her suspiciously. “You didn’t just happen to know that.”
“While you were busy finding injured men and rescuing Buddy, I was on the Internet researching jimsonweed. Bernie’s plant got me thinking about it.”
“So how come the doctors didn’t find anything? Wouldn’t it show up on blood tests?” asked Humphrey.
“I don’t think they search for it. In most of the anecdotes, the authorities figured it out based on what the people had eaten.”
“Did Agatha Christie write about causing a fall by tying a wire across steep stairs?”
“Doesn’t ring any bells, but she was fond of pushing victims so that they fell to their deaths. Why the questions about Agatha Christie?”
“Clarissa had a collection of Christie’s books on her bed.”
“That’s meaningless. I have hundreds of books in my house. You could accuse me of all sorts of things on that basis.”
“Me, too,” said Humphrey.
“I suppose you’re right. Besides, I don’t know of any reason for Clarissa to want to kill Joy. I don’t think Joy ever worked for Cake My Day. I don’t see a connection.”
“I think we both know by now that the connection isn’t always obvious. I don’t see any dessert. When we’re through here, how about you trot down to Sugar Mama and pick up some dessert? Meanwhile, I’ll make a few phone calls to see what I can turn up.”
Humphrey offered to do the dishes as long as I promised not to reveal his whereabouts to Joy.
Before I did anything else, I placed another call to Alex to be sure he was okay—and got voice mail again. Well, that wasn’t reassuring at all!
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Dear Natasha,
I’ve been asked to bake cupcake sandwiches for a dinner party. I have no idea what that means. Are they cupcakes or sandwiches? Sweet or savory?
—In a Pickle in Sandwich, Illinois
Dear In a Pickle,
A cupcake sandwich is sliced through the middle or just under the top. Frosting or a filling is applied to the bottom and the top goes over it, just like a sandwich. You can make them savory or sweet. And you can even frost the top if you want!
—Natasha
I hurried to Sugar Mama on the pretense of inquiring about buying samples for my clients. I waited until the bakery had emptied and then asked Joy to sit with me for a minute.
We discussed the samplers and arranged a date for me to pick them up. Joy was thrilled with the prospect of catering cupcakes for large events.
“It looks like you’re doing pretty well. The bakery was packed when I arrived.”
She gulped. “My cupcakes are selling, and don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for that, but it’s hard doing everything myself. I never get a minute off. I’m here all the time, and it’s not as much fun as it was with Renee. We worked hard but we were friends, you know?”
Joy had been a lousy friend! I couldn’t come right out and say that, of course, but judging from the misery on her face, I suspected she knew.
“How could I have been such a dolt? I’m not a kid. I’m not one of those girls who ditches her girlfriends just because a guy shows some interest. I can’t believe I bought into Nick’s lies. He had me convinced that we were going to be the next Spenser and Clarissa.” She adjusted the band on her ponytail. “I abandoned all my values. He had me believing that I deserved Sugar Baby’s money. Now, of course, I realize that it was because he wanted it for his own use.” She shuddered. “I was a traitor. I turned my back on the best friend I ever had.” She gazed out the window at Sugar Baby across the street. “I miss Renee and Muffin.”
“I guess that means you no longer think Renee is trying to kill you?”
“She did steal my grandmother’s ring, and I’ll never forgive her for that, but . . . I don’t know what to think. I’ve only been staying at Myra’s a couple of days, but somehow I’m not scared anymore. And nothing weird has happened. Isn’t that peculiar? All the terror came to a screeching halt. What do you think it means?”
“It might mean that Myra is a very nurturing person and you feel safe now. Or it could mean—”
“I know, I know. That Nick got what he wanted and no longer has a need to get rid of me.”
“Joy, why do you think Renee stole your grandmother’s ring? It sounds so much more like something Nick would do.”
“Only Renee and Muffin knew where it was. That sort of counts Nick out.”
Clearly, Renee or Muffin could have told someone else, but it could have been anyone, so I didn’t bother pointing out the obvious to her. “Did you ever work for Spenser?”
She laughed. “I think I’m one of the few cupcake bakers in town who hasn’t!”
“How well do you know Spenser and Clarissa?”
She opened her eyes wide. “I don’t exactly run with Clarissa’s crowd. Some of them come in to buy their cupcakes here, but I don’t really know the charity ladies who lunch.”
“How about Spenser? Didn’t you tell me he was a regular at Sugar Baby?”
“He was. But I didn’t know him well. Just to say hi. Exchange a few pleasantries.”
I thanked her and left. That notion had fizzled to nothing. But as I walked home, I spied Maurice slinking into The Laughing Hound.
Maurice brought out conflicting emotions in me. He’d taken a chance in life with his cupcakeries, which was to be respected and admired. It hadn’t worked out, and he’d lost everything. He deserved sympathy for that, even if he’d been a hardhead and hadn’t listened to good advice. If only he weren’t so hateful. Still, I had accused him of stealing Buddy. I didn’t have to stoop to his level of nastiness. The least I could do was apologize with grace.
I followed him into The Laughing Hound and found him at the bar. Moe saw me coming, and I glimpsed fear in his eyes.
I walked up beside Maurice. “Moe,” I said, “how about a drink for Maurice? On me.”
Maurice didn’t turn to face me, but his eyes shifted and he watched me with distrust.
“Maurice, I’d like to apologize to you. We located Buddy, the black and tan dog, this morning. It’s clear that you had nothing to do with that. I’m sorry that I . . . we blamed you.”
“I’ll have a Guinness.” He waited until I paid for it before saying, “Apology not accepted. You put me through great embarrassment by sending the police to my home.”
He was treading on extremely thin ice, considering what he’d put me through with that idiotic rumor he started. I tried to take the high road. “I’m sorry about that.”
He wore a short-sleeve shirt, revealing a square white bandage taped to his right arm.
“I heard you were bitten by a dog. How is your arm?”
“I’m looking for the vicious cur. If I don’t find it, I’ll have to get rabies shots. It shouldn’t be allowed to run loose.”
I hadn’t heard anything about a potentially rabid dog roaming Old Town. “What does the dog look like?”
“White, with long fur, and mean, beady little eyes.”
It was all I could do not to laugh. He had to mean Martha. “So it was you!”
Moe stopped working to listen in.
“You brought the golden cupcake to the dinner. What did you do, drop it? Then, when you tried to take it away from Martha, she bit you forcing you to drop it again?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, but I think you do. I think you know that stealing that thing was grand larceny.”
“I did not steal it. It was mine.”
Ohhhh! The man was so aggravating! I had to work at keeping a level tone so I wouldn’t screech at him. “You sold it to Spenser.”
“He cheated me. He knew I was in desperate need of money. It was worth three times what he paid.”
I took a big chance. “So you broke into his home and stole it back from him?”
He faced forward and didn’t look at me. “I did not! I had nothing to do with that whatsoever.”
“Then how did you come into possession of it?”
“Moe, this woman is annoying me. Would you kindly escort her out?”
“She’s friends with my boss. Sorry, Maurice.”
He swung toward me suddenly, the li
mp white hair hanging in his face in the most unappetizing manner. “Tell your police friend, Wong, that if she wants to know who staged that burglary, she doesn’t need to look farther than Mr. High-and-Mighty I-Have-More-Money-than-Anyone Spenser Osbourne.”
“Spenser? Are you saying that he staged the burglary of his own home?”
“All I know is that I found my precious cupcake in a hidden compartment in the desk Renee bought from Spenser. Who else would have hidden it there?”
I steadied myself by holding on to a barstool. Spenser? I knew he was in the middle of everything that was going on, but he’d had an alibi for the burglary of his house. Had he and Clarissa been in cahoots? Was that why she didn’t like to talk about it? Because it never happened?
I glanced up at Moe, who shrugged. Did I dare believe Maurice when he’d told so many lies?
Still, he’d gotten the gold cupcake somewhere, and the bite on his arm proved the validity of Humphrey and Leon’s theory about Martha dropping the cupcake in Humphrey’s car.
Or had he just made a very big mistake by trying to get Spenser into trouble? It was a good thing my hair couldn’t actually stand on end, because it would have at that moment.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Dear Sophie,
I’m making dinner for my new in-laws, and I’d like to bake cupcakes for dessert. I’ve never baked anything in my life. Any tips?
—Nervous Newlywed in Toast, North Carolina
Dear Nervous Newlywed,
Read through the whole recipe before you start so there won’t be any surprises. Let the butter and the eggs come to room temperature. Be sure to beat in the eggs very well. In many recipes, you can mix together the dry ingredients. Whisk them together to blend well before adding them to the batter. Good luck!
—Sophie
I simply said good-bye and walked out, forcing myself not to run so he wouldn’t realize what he’d just done. Outside of the restaurant, I sucked in air and leaned against the wall. If he wasn’t lying, Maurice had just placed himself at the scene of Muffin’s murder. If he really had found the cupcake inside the desk, it meant he had been inside Renee’s apartment.
I called Wong and got her voice mail. There wasn’t anything I could do but leave a message. I left a message for Detective Kenner, too. Why weren’t they answering their phones?