Witch Way to Candy Cane Murder (Holiday Helpings Book 1)

by Amber Cabrera

  The director started to speak when he was interrupted by the incessant clapping of two ladies sitting in the audience. He turned around and with an irritated expression on his face barked, “Excuse me, this is a closed set.”

  Liz Beth and I stood up and continued our clapping.

  “Brilliant! “ Liz Beth exclaimed. “Just brilliant!”

  “What are you doing here?” The director asked.

  We sidestepped our way out of the row of seats, into the aisle and toward the director.

  “Don’t you remember?” I said. “You called us here. We’re the refreshment committee.”

  I am Jewell Deen Solano, the owner and operator of Just Desserts. It's a St. Augustine bake shop and crime museum named after the two things I love most- desserts and murder mysteries (well, solving them anyway). I've done pretty well for myself over the years that it allows me the opportunity to volunteer. I enjoy volunteering for community service events like this one. It helps that the refreshment committee gets free tickets to all plays, of course but I do love the theater.

  I gave him a big smile and stood there, resplendent in my favorite white capris pants and pink blouse. Summer was in full swing and with it came the lightweight wardrobe. To be a native Floridian means to have an entire closet filled with flip flops and tank tops.

  Cupcake, my miniature Chihuahua, was getting restless. This was the time of day when she usually had her afternoon walk. I was so consumed with the final act of the play's rehearsal I nearly forgot.

  Cupcake is my pride and joy. She's a tiny brown version of a doe- or maybe a bat- with her tall, alert ears always perked. She's tiny enough to go just about everywhere I go. I've lived in St. Augustine so long that most of the locals know that Cupcake and I are a package deal, so they never think twice when I mosey on in to their store with her head peeking out of my tote bag.

  Cupcake isn't just a pretty face, though. She earns her keep by helping me greet hungry tourists who come in for a sweet treat when they get tired of walking along St. George Street. That's where my shop is located. Right in the heart of St. Augustine’s oldest city.

  “Just Desserts?” The Jake Sparrow paused, trying to run through any prior discussions he had had about refreshments. He couldn’t seem to remember.

  Jake was an intense fellow, to say the least. He took his job as lead director very seriously. Certainly this town was appreciative of his deep dedication to the arts, but he could be a bit abrasive at times. I usually chalked it up to his perfectionism and paid no mind to his quirks.

  “Yes, my best friend, Liz Beth and I agreed to bake several goodies for opening night,” I said.

  Jake smiled politely, but his impatience with us was apparent. I couldn't say that I blamed him. He was probably eager to get back to directing his play. With opening night just a couple days away, it was going to take every minute to straighten out the million nuances that needed tweaking.

  “Ah, I see.” Jake feigned a weak smile. “Could you possibly come back later? I’m really busy right now and don’t have time to…”

  “Oh not a problem at all.” I said. “I’m sure the play will be terrific, and no one will guess the murderer is the cousin.”

  I gleefully nodded my head as Liz Beth and I started back up the aisle toward the exit.

  “Wait a minute!”

  Jake turned and followed us out of the playhouse and onto the sidewalk outside.

  “How did you know that? Somebody gave you the script, right?”

  “No, not at all,” I replied.

  “Then how did you know?” He demanded.

  “Well, I started to suspect it when the cousin commented about the ancient dagger hanging on the wall, something he couldn’t have known anything about had he not seen it at the murder scene.” I said. “And what about when he let it slip that the uncle was away on his yacht at the time of the murder?”

  Jake stared at me, his mouth agape.

  “Oh, but I’m sure your play will be a hit,” I said sheepishly. “We will return later with a sampling of our best desserts.”

  Liz Beth and I plunked along on our merry way giggling. Solving mysteries is what I've always been good at. It just came naturally to me, so it didn't seem that difficult to predict how the play would end. I did feel a little sorry for Jake, though. I hadn't meant to completely deflate his hopes for a true mystery play.

  “I want to see the writers now!” I heard Jake stomp back into the playhouse, probably angry that he had even more work ahead of him now.

  CHAPTER 3

  I pulled the freshly baked strawberry cheesecake from the double oven in my bakery. The smell of fresh strawberries and graham cracker crust filled the little shop, and I inhaled a deep breath of the sweet confections. There's just something about baking that soothes my soul. I don't know why I've always loved it, but I can remember doing it all my life. Maybe it's because desserts always make people happy. I enjoy watching people from all over the world come into my shop and taste one of my creations. I love witnessing the exact moment they bite into a piece of my cheesecake. Their eyes widen in delight and their mouths turn upward into a smile. I may not know a lot, but what I do know is that a lot of love has gone into each cheesecake I've made over the years.

  I set the spring foam pan on the cooling rack and took off my oven mitt so I could turn off the stove. Strawberry cheesecake was one of my favorite smells. It reminded me of when I was a little girl and my grandma would make it for me. We had a strawberry field on our farm in Hastings where Grandma Jewell would teach me all about how to grow them. The recipe she used was handed down to her by her grandmother. In fact, it was the recipe that she used to start her small bakery that had become a bit of a legend within the culinary circles of St. Augustine. That bakery is now mine and so is the recipe.

  One time a big shot food critic making his way to Jacksonville stopped in overnight to take a look at the historic sites and found my shop. He loved my strawberry cheesecake so much he did an article all about the bakery. He tried offering me a thousand dollars to sell Grandma Jewell's prize strawberry cheesecake recipe but I politely declined. My whole world was built around Grandma Jewell's collection of cheesecake recipes and there was no way I would part with any of them-- ever.

  I didn’t think much more of the interview at the time, but when it was printed in Culinary Magazine six months later, my little bake shop became an overnight hit. Tourists from all over the country stopped in and requested to buy slices of strawberry cheesecake and even entire cheesecakes. Many of them said I was the reason they chose St. Augustine as their vacation destination. They wanted to know more about Grandma Jewell and life in this cozy historic town.

  I took another look at my cheesecake which was cooling on a silver cookie rack.

  Perfect.

  The crust was a golden brown but not too dark. The strawberry swirls were evenly distributed. It was almost a shame to give it away. Surely Cupcake and I could occupy ourselves with this beauty. I knew better though. I never baked cheesecakes for us. It was too tempting to eat them all. You have to have your own sense of will power working in a bakery all day. No, this tasty treat would be my contribution to the opening night party at the playhouse. I shook off the urge to grab a knife and cut into it and instead let the cheesecake finish cooling on the rack as I turned to wash the baking pan and bowls I had dirtied.

  If Grandma Jewell were alive today, she would tell me to let the dishes soak in bleach water before washing and rinsing them off. She always had her home cleaning remedies that she would hand out like advice. It was kind of her thing. Everyone loved her for it and soon she was even known as the go-to guru for getting stains out of clothing.

  Although it had been over fifteen years since she passed away, I missed her daily. Everything about this place was her. Even my name I inherited from her, as well as the shop. She taught me everything I knew about baking, gardening and more before she died. We had always shared a love of desserts and mysteries. I remembe
r spending countless hours together baking and reading crime novels or watching whodunit shows on television.

  As an homage to Grandma Jewell's legacy and our mutual love for all things mystery, I added a small crime museum to my bakery and named all of it Just Desserts. I know in my heart that Grandma Jewell would have been proud of how well our little shop was doing.

  I could get lost in thinking about all the good times we had, but time was slipping away from me. I needed to get my morning jog in before I had to report to the playhouse to set up for the opening night party. I slipped upstairs to my apartment above the shop, put on my sneakers and laced them up before slipping out the back door and hitting Main Street.

  Jogging around town was one of my favorite things to do each morning. It released any stress or anxiety I may have and gave me the opportunity to see the city before the hustle and bustle of daily tourists took over the place.

  The sun always rose over the Bayfront, illuminating the beautiful town square and shining against the windows of the art galleries and inns.

  I enjoyed my routine and always tried to run at the same time each morning. My route took me by other businesses owners who were beginning to open their doors in preparation for the day. I always waved to them as they swept off their front sidewalks and set out their table and chairs. Any of us that work and live in the downtown area of St. Augustine are like a small family. Many of us have been here most all of our lives. We have built our businesses from the ground up. I really love it here.

  My route took me around the town square past Flagler College, the Santa Monica Hotel, art galleries and shops around the plaza, past the Catholic Church and along the Bayfront. From sailboats to small yachts, boats of all kinds were anchored overnight at the marina and in front of the Bayfront to get a look at the Castillo de San Marcos and the old homes that were made into bed and breakfast inns.

  The Bridge of Lions was also a feature favorite for tourists, with its entrances guarded by two marble lions permanently frozen in a fierce growl that warned all who passed by it to treat the city well.

  As I ran along the Bayfront, I spotted Marshall and waved. He was an elderly man who lived on his boat and gave tours along the river. It must be 50 years now that he’s been doing that. The great thing about St. Augustine is that it's a town that's easy to get to know people. I continued my run to the city gates where I crossed the street and headed back to my bake shop.

  I often gave a silent prayer of thanks for the opportunity to live here all my life. It was a quaint, sometimes sleepy town that was forced to wake up every day to the delight of tourists all over the world who wanted nothing more than to share in the wonderment of the oldest living European city in America.

  And the strawberry cheesecake wasn’t too shabby either.

  ****

  As I walked upstairs to my cozy two bedroom apartment above the bakery, I noticed that my backyard garden needed a good weeding. I'll pay the Anderson boy down the street to get it done next week. There were many activities I enjoyed, gardening being one of them, but the shop had become so popular in recent years that I just didn’t have any time for much else.

  It was nice to live above the bake shop. There have been so many nights when I couldn't sleep and would wonder down into the bakery to experiment with a new recipe, or try out a change on an old one. I have spent many hours developing just the right combination of flavors to wow my customers.

  Right now however, I was running behind and needed to get changed in order to be ready to open.

  Cupcake jumped around in circles, her tail wagging in anticipation for some attention. I usually took Cupcake with me everywhere. Since I had no children of my own, I had adopted Cupcake years ago as a companion. At the time, she fit in the palm of my hand. I noticed that she looked no bigger than a sweet cupcake. Since then, we'd made one heck of a fine duo when it came to entertaining tourists.

  “Hello sweetie,” I cooed at the little brown and white bouncing pup. “Let me get dressed and then I will get you breakfast.”

  I started to climb the stairs when the telephone rang. Not wanting to miss the call, I rushed to pick it up. I had a cell phone, but the bakery was a business and needed a landline. I much preferred using the bakery phone instead of my cell phone. In fact, I only used it when I was out of the shop.

  Unfortunately, in my rush to get to the phone, I tripped on the pink and white carpet in the middle of the floor and nearly took a tumble. The carpet was beautiful and fit the shop perfectly, which was why I overlooked its tendency to catch me unaware and tripping over it throughout the day. I made a mental note to somehow fix it or replace it when I had the time. Right now I gave a silent curse under my breath and continued on toward the phone.

  “Just Desserts.” I answered in as happy a tone as I could.

  “Aunt Jewell?” A voice on the line said.

  “Barry!” I said, excited to realize it was my nephew calling from New York.

  My brother's son was a successful attorney in New York City and I couldn't be prouder of him. He rarely visited, as he was extremely busy, but he always made time for a monthly Saturday phone call.

  Today however, was a weekday and she thought she sensed a tone in his voice that concerned her.

  “Hi Aunt Jewell,” he said. “How are you?”

  “Well, heavens I’m fine. How are you? You’re not in any trouble are you?”

  Barry laughed. “No Aunt Jewell,” he said. “Why would you think that?”

  “No reason. I’m glad to hear from you.”

  “I’m calling to tell you something,” He said.

  “I knew it! You’re in trouble.”

  I enjoyed giving him a hard time. Barry was about as responsible as they come. He didn't drink, smoke, or take so much as an aspirin for a headache. It was a delight to hear from him, but he had already made his monthly phone call last week so I wasn't sure why he was calling now.

  “Of course not, Aunt Jewell” Barry said. “I’m calling to give you some news.”

  “Oh?” I fell silent. I couldn’t possibly imagine what news he'd be calling about in the middle of the week while he'd typically be at work. Then it hit me.

  “Are you getting married?”

  I waited in anticipation for the glad news that Barry would soon be settling down. I always knew my nephew was a handsome catch for any clever woman smart enough to snatch him up.

  “No Aunt Jewell,” He said. “Not yet.”

  Her hopes dashed, she began to half-listen to him while she continued to ready herself for the day ahead.

  “Remember when I came to visit you at Christmas?” He asked.

  “Of course I do,” she said. “I made that cinnamon yule log with the egg nog icing.”

  “Yes. Well anyway, remember when you gave me a copy of your murder mystery cookbook?” Barry asked.

  “Yes,” Jewell Deen said, growing a little impatient for him to get to his point.

  “Well, I kind of showed the book to my publisher friend,” Barry said, waiting for her reaction and holding his breath for any possible backlash.

  “Heavens, why would you do that?” She asked. “I just compiled my grandmother’s recipes with a few mystery stories for fun. It was something to do after your Uncle died. I never meant for anyone to see them.”

  “Aunt Jewell they loved it!” Barry said with enough enthusiasm to cover her irritation. “They want to buy it.”

  “You can’t be serious?” She said.

  Jewell Deen was stunned. Who would want to buy her old stories? Maybe the recipes, she thought, but surely not the stories.

  “I am very serious.” Barry said. “They want to meet you. Please come to New York and just hear what they have to say.”

  Jewell Deen was speechless. There wasn’t much she could say. The idea intrigued her, but she was happy with her life. Going to New York, meeting a publisher and talking about publishing a book she wrote seemed like more than she needed right now. But she loved her nephew an
d wanted to make him happy. If it meant that much to him, she would give it a shot.

  “I’ll come to visit you if you promise you will show me all that the Big Apple has to offer,” she said. “Then, if we have time, we can stop by your publishing friend to talk about it.”

  “Thanks Aunt Jewell.” Barry said. “You won’t regret it.”

  Jewell Deen hung up the phone hoping he was right.

  Chocolate Cheesecake Murder Sample

  Chapter 1

  “Thank you for visiting our little shop and you come back to our beautiful city again, ya hear?”

  I handed the cute young couple the plastic bag containing a couple slices of chocolate cheesecake and lemon bars. The Just Desserts logo on the plastic bag- a picture of cherry cheesecake with a knife in the middle- looked back at me. I always thought the logo was wickedly clever, combining both the bake shop and the crime museum.

  It was another gorgeous blue-sky day outside. Perfect tourist weather and they were out in droves. St. George Street was crowded with people shopping for antiques and souvenirs. I took a deep breath of fresh air before exhaling, appreciating the fact that I lived in this city and was able to enjoy its historic charm every day.

  “This chocolate cheesecake is selling like crazy.”

  Liz Beth shouted across the room amid bustling customers who had their cash out ready to purchase another slice.

  “Look at all these customers, Jewell Deen.” She said.

  Cupcake looked up at me, her pleading eyes begged for a tiny morsel. She lifted one paw, gently scraping my leg with it. She was usually good about being around a lot of people, but today there were so many of them that I could feel her anxiety.

  “Come on, girl. Come with me.”

  Before taking another customer, I walked her upstairs to the entrance of our apartment and opened the door. She scampered through the threshold and gratefully looked back at me before jumping on the couch where she circled a nest on her favorite pillow a couple times before lying down.