NOTHING BUNDT MURDER: A Culinary Cozy Mystery (A Rosie Kale Culinary Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Leigh Selfman

  ***

  We waited in the car, which was parked under on the street, under a big fig tree, down the street from Doug’s house.

  “Do you think he bought it?” Casey asked, eyeing the house. “We don’t even know for sure he was watching our little drama. Nice overacting by the way.”

  I rolled my eyes at Casey. But inside I just hoped that my overacting didn’t tip Doug off to our little plan. The little show we’d just put on in the kitchen of Bundt Baby had been purely for his sake after all.

  Though we really had been looking for the camera and we really did find it in the cuckoo clock, Casey never actually made the call to the detective. That was all just a ruse to get Doug over to Bundt Baby’s and out of his house so I could break into his house and get the surveillance footage.

  Which so far, wasn’t working.

  I frowned. “From what I read on the internet, these surveillance cameras usually have a motion sensor thing so they automatically turn on if someone’s in their vicinity. And they have a USB doohickey to stream what they’re filming to someone’s computer. So my guess is that if Doug was home, he saw us in the store.”

  “Well he’s definitely home. His car’s there,” Casey motioned with his head. Then he sat back and closed his eyes. “I really am starved you know.”

  He sat quietly for a moment then checked his watch. As he did, I noticed something colorful peeking out from underneath it. “Is that a tattoo?” I asked in disbelief, reaching over to get a better look at it.

  He quickly covered his right wrist with his left hand and pulled his hands away. “That. Is none of your business.”

  “Oh my gosh! It is! Mr. Stuck up Brit upper lip has a tattoo. You have to show me.”

  He shook his head, ‘no’ and kept his wrist far away from my grasping hands.

  “No. I don’t know you well enough to show you the evidence of my misspent youth. After all…”

  “Wait! Shh,” I said—as just then the front door swung open and Doug stepped outside.“Here he comes!”

  I was whispering even though Doug was much too far away to hear me.

  He ran out of the house and over to his car, still in his bathrobe. As he screeched out of the driveway and sped past us down the street, I ducked down in my seat. Though I suspected Doug was too focused on getting the hidden camera out of the store to pay attention to anything else.

  “There he goes,” I clapped. “It worked!”

  “Great,” Casey said. “So now, let’s really call the cops and have them meet us at his house. We’ll tell them that they’ll find footage from the night of the murder inside on Doug’s laptop.”

  “We can’t do that! We don’t know what we’ll find. And they’d need to get a warrant to search and all kinds of stuff…by which time he could destroy the evidence.”

  Casey shrugged, looking petulant, though he obviously knew that I was right.

  “My only option is to go in and find the tapes myself,” I said. “Look, it’s not really breaking and entering. It’s half Babette’s house and she lets me go inside to feed the cat…”

  “The cat which you fed a half an hour ago?” he said sarcastically.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go fast and be gone by the time he gets back.”

  He sighed. “Aah. Okay, fine, then I’ll go in and you wait out here.”

  “No way. I know the house. Look, we don’t have much time. Just park at the end of the street and call me if you see his car coming back. Okay?”

  “I don’t like this…”

  “Great. Thanks.” And before he could stop me I jumped out of the car and ran across the street and up to Babette’s house.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Once inside the house, I forced myself to calm down and catch my breath. I knew it would take Doug some time get the clock and get back. I figured I had at least five minutes, maybe seven. And if he did come back early, Casey would warn me. I pulled out my cell phone and made sure it was on, just in case.

  Then I headed into the den. From what I’d read on the internet, I knew that the cuckoo clock camera was probably wirelessly transmitting everything to a computer--probably to Doug’s laptop computer.

  I turned on his laptop and started quickly searching the files. But I couldn’t find any that were labeled “spy cam” footage, or anything obvious at all. I was quickly clicking and searching through anything I could find, when , as if by magic, the camera started broadcasting onscreen.

  I gasped. I was looking right into the kitchen of Bundt Baby, as Doug, in real time entered the store and walked right up to the lens. “Gotcha he said, looking right at me.

  I froze. Busted.

  Then I realized that was ridiculous. He was talking directly into the camera because he was about to disconnect it. I could see him but he couldn’t see me. Thank goodness.

  Doug went over and grabbed the stool, and pulled it over. Then he climbed on top of it and reached up and towards the camera and suddenly the screen went dark—which meant that Doug had unplugged the camera. He had gotten what he went to the bakery for.

  I had to hurry.

  I clicked on the WMV movie file that had just opened and realized there were many, many more such files in one folder labeled “business accounts.” So I quickly pulled the thumb drive from my keychain and put it into the laptop’s usb port. Then I dragged the entire ‘business accounts’ folder onto it.

  “Hurry hurry hurry,” I whispered as the files began copying onto the thumb drive.

  Now that Doug had disconnected the camera, I knew he could be on his way back.

  I heard a meowing next to me and realized I’d accidentally let Cupcake into Doug’s den— which was supposedly off limits due to his ‘allergies.’’ I had no idea if they were real or not but I figured I’d better keep her out or her black fur, shedding on his dark leather couch would give me away.

  “Hi sweetie,” I said, picking her up and carrying her out into the hall, where she kept meowing, hoping that my presence meant it was feeding time. I closed the door and looked back at the computer. There was still 38 percent left to copy.

  Listening to Cupcake’s plaintive, rhythmic meows, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay, real quick.” I flung the door open, ran to the kitchen and gave Cupcake a handful of treats.

  Then I hurried back down the hall to the den, when I froze. The front door was opening.

  I was caught! And Casey never even warned me!

  I automatically reached into my pocket to check my phone when I realized that I’d left it in the den. I had to get it and the flash drive and get out of there.

  But it was too late.

  The front door was opening.

  I dove into the den, flipping off the lights as I went. Then I grabbed the flash drive out of the laptop and put it in my pocket.

  I waited, breathless in the dark, flat against the wall, hoping Doug would walk right by and not notice me. Then I spotted my cell phone on the desk, its screen lit up with an incoming phone call. In the dark, I tiptoed up to it and grabbed it.

  I froze as Doug walked by.

  I heard his footsteps continue down the hallway and breathed a silent sigh of relief. I just had to wait for him to go into the kitchen or living room and I could make my escape out the front door.

  His footfalls continued heading reassuringly away.Then they stopped.

  He was coming back!

  I had no idea what to do. I hurried to the window and struggled to get it open, but it was painted shut. I ducked behind his desk and waited. He came into the room and flipped on the light. Then he walked towards the desk.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” He asked, coming towards me, menacingly.

  I stood up nervously. “I…I’m here…looking for Cupcake. Not to feed her. I already fed her, ha ha. But to take her home with me. If…if that’s okay…” I was backing across the room as he came towards me. “I just thought it’d be easier if I brought her to my place.”

  “Bu
t Cupcake’s not in here. She’s never in here.” He was looking at me through hooded eyes as he came closer. “I know what you’re trying to do to me,” he said, coming even closer. “Why Rosie? What have I ever done to you?”

  “No…” I protested, backing up as far as I could. “I’m not. Doing anything. I’m just looking for…”

  The all of a sudden there was a loud Meyowlp.

  Doug was too startled to respond as he looked down at Cupcake who had obviously snuck into the den and was now under his feet.

  “Cupcake!” I cried as I ran over to pick her up. “There you are! You see Doug? You must have left the den door open to her without realizing it.”

  Doug immediately began scratching his arm in allergic response as I held the cat and backed out of the room. “You stepped on her paw!” I chided. “Poor Cupcake!”

  Then I hurried down the hall to the front door and didn’t breathe at all until I was safely outside.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Are you okay?” Casey asked when I slammed into his car, and plopped down on the passenger seat, breathless with the excitement of a narrow escape.

  “Step on it!” I said, ignoring his question and slinking down into my seat to hide, just in case Doug looking for me.

  Casey shook his head and started his car with irritating slowness. “FYI, it’s less suspicious if one doesn’t actually screech out of one’s parking spot. Draws less attention that way,” he said smugly as we drove down the street.

  I sat up and looked around and behind us—there appeared to be no one on our tail.

  “You know, I almost came in after you,” he glanced over at me. “I called and texted a few times when I saw Doug’s car come back, but you didn’t answer. I figured you had some kind of plan…”

  I nodded, finally starting to relax. “I accidentally left the phone in the den when I went to find Cupcake some treats.”

  “To find Cupcake some treats? While committing a heist?” He shot a look in my direction. “Remind me not to bring you on my next felony.Especially since you just fed her 20 minutes ago.”

  “True,” I nuzzled Cupcake’s nose. “But it’s a good thing I did, isn’t it snookums? Since she saved my…er…Bundt. So to speak."

  Casey tapped impatiently on the wheel, “That cat has eaten twice now which is two more times than I have.” He glanced at the clock on the dashboard and sighed. “And now, Madrilenos is closed.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” I bit my lip. “But…how about if I make us some dinner? I mean, we have to bring Cupcake back to my place anyway.”

  He glanced at me warily.

  “Trust me, I’m a great cook.” I nodded, filled with the bravado of one who has just escaped near death and felt confident enough to do anything. Even cook. "At least I’m a good micowaver. But it’s amazing what you can do with that wondrous little machine.”

  I heard the distinctive sound of a grunt but I couldn’t tell if came from Casey or from Cupcake. I decided it came from Cupcake and chose to ignore it as I planned our dinner menu in my head.

  ***

  “See, that’s good stuff, right?” I asked as Casey took another slurp of my special microwaved tomato soup, with mushrooms, black olives, cheese, basil, half n’half and just hint of nutmeg.

  “Mmn, actually it’s not bad,” he said, sounding surprised. "Not bad at all.”

  I smiled, satisfied. “See, I can cook. Some things anyway.”

  “Yes, you can.” He was looking at me with a seriousness that made me blush. “And Rosie, just for the record, I don’t think that Patsy newswoman had anything on you.”

  “Really?” I was smiling again.

  He nodded, never moving his eyes from mine.

  “Absolutely. She might have a certain perkiness that some audiences prefer, but you…are much more…compelling.”

  I stared at him and gulped. My brain immediately began screaming at me: No! don’t fall for his charms! He’s a cheater! But I couldn’t hear it over the loud pounding of my heart.

  “Thanks,” I said, softly.

  We stared into each other’s eyes. Then a loud shriek filled the room.

  I startled. “The tea kettle,” I said, taking a deep breath and standing up.

  Saved by the shriek.

  I hurried into the kitchen where I was safely beyond Casey’s vow-scrambling magnetic field.

  “I’m going to make you the best dessert ever,” I called out as I quickly prepared a tray.

  When I came out, Casey was walking towards the living room, looking casual and gorgeous.

  “Actually I’m a little tired of Bundt cakes,” he said, his green eyes slightly creased in a smile. “Though I have to admit, those lumps you made were actually quite tasty.”

  “Oh. You mean… you ate them? Huh.” I smiled at him, surprised again.

  I knew he was just putting on this charming act and inside he was a snake of the slitheriest order, but his act was pretty irresistible. I put the tray down on the coffee table and turned to him.

  “Ohhh…I’m not making Bundts tonight,” I teased. “I am making the best dessert in the world…ready?”

  “How can I say no?” he sat on the edge of couch and stared at me. “I’m all yours.”

  “S’mores,” I said with a flourish over the tray filled with marshmallows, graham crackers and squares of chocolate. But it failed to exact the excited response I expected.

  “More what?” he asked, frowning.

  “Not ‘more.’ ‘S’mores.’ Don’t tell me you never had them? Not even at camp or…in the tube…or in the loo…or…” I tried to think of some more Britishy sounding words but that was about it for my Brit-sounding vocabulary.

  “I never actually went to camp,” Casey said, leaning back, his muscular arms resting along the couch back. “And eating is generally frowned upon in the tube. And most especially in the loo.”

  “Oh, c’mon,” I said, putting some marshmallows on the end of a long chop stick. “And don’t make that face until you try it.”

  “Hmmn…” He was watching me warily. “To be honest, I hate marshmallows and……those cracker things…”

  “Everybody hates marshmallows!” I gave him a look as I got up and turned on the gas fireplace. “That’s the beauty of this dessert. Separately the ingredients are nothing to write home about. Well, except for the chocolate. But it doesn’t matter. Together they add up something that is so far above the sum of its parts, that it’s……magical.”

  And with that I roasted a marshmallow and put it on the chocolate on top of the cracker and let it all melt together. Then I forced him to take a bite.

  He literally groaned in ecstasy.

  “Oh...mmn…”

  “Right?” I agreed. I made one for myself but he was so eager for another I let him have it instead.

  As I melted another marshmallow in the fire I looked over to find him watching me and melted into the gaze of his sparkling green eyes.

  Boy was he gorgeous. And surprisingly sweet...for someone so evil.

  I was about to get lost in his eyes, but instead I forced myself up.

  “Well, I guess we need to check that flash drive,” I said. “I just hope I got the right files.”

  I grabbed my laptop out of the bedroom and came back, taking a seat next to him on the couch. Then I took the flash drive out of my pocket—the one I’d put Doug’s files on—and put into the USB port.

  I had to admit, Casey’s proximity to me, the smell of his expensive musky cologne made it a little hard to concentrate. But I forced myself. This was life and death.

  Saved by the murder investigation.

  Luckily the files on the flash drive were dated and I had no trouble finding the ones from the night before the murder.

  I clicked on one from that date and pressed ‘play’ and there it was: footage of Babette and me in the kitchen of the store, earlier that same evening. I was just about to leave for the day and we were chatting about, of all things, Casey himself!


  Babette was telling me what a snake he was and that I should beware of him and I was agreeing wholeheartedly. Then the conversation moved on to Kevin, my boyfriend who cheated on me and how I was sometimes tempted to go back to him.

  As soon as I realized what the footage was, I tried to fast forward through it, but I wasn’t quick enough. Casey heard it all. I could feel his eyes on me. Burning through me. But I didn’t acknowledge him.

  “We have to focus on the murder investigation,” I said with as much dignity as I could while I kept my eyes focused on the screen. I fast forwarded to footage of Babette baking the gluten-free Bundt later that same evening.

  For a long while, Babette was in the kitchen alone, working on different versions of the Bundt cake she was baking for Dahlia. I knew that could go on for hours so I scanned through that footage at quadruple speed, looking for the part where she opened the back door and walked out of the store.

  “That’s it,” Casey said. “Back up.”

  I rewound the footage and hit the play arrow. We were now watching just what Babette had described to me: It was three in the morning and she was standing at the counter, pouring the batter for the purple cake into the Bundt mold. “Finally,” she said to herself with a satisfied smile as she looked at the consistency of the batter she was making.

  But just as she was about to open the oven door to put it in, she looked up startled. She frowned as if listening, then she put the Bundt cake mold back down on the counter and headed out the back door of the store.

  “Look!” I said to Casey. “That must be when she heard the cat howl and went outside. Just like she said.”

  He nodded. “It does look like it.”

  We watched closely as the kitchen remained empty for several minutes. Then, as if it were a fictional suspense thriller rather than a real life crime, the back door of the kitchen began to slowly open.

  I gasped.

  A figure, dressed all in black, headed into the kitchen. His (or her) face wasn’t visible beneath the hoodie that was pulled down low over it. The person in black looked around, in a jumpy, nervous fashion, then pulled something…it looked like a vial…out of his hoodie pocket.