The Blackmail Flour Trail: A Culinary Cozy Mystery (Slice of Paradise Cozy Mysteries Book 3)

by Nancy McGovern

  Nathan grinned. “But isn’t that why she’s off enjoying herself now? Because she doesn’t want to be the boss anymore? She wants to go and do all that other stuff she missed out on back then.”

  Faith paused for a moment. It sounded good. Bob Marley was rocking away softly in the background, and that sounded good, too. She managed a smile. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll try and talk to her at least.” Once she said that, she felt silly. It was her grandmother, for goodness’ sake. Surely she should be able to share how she felt and try and make things better between them? She put the lid back on the rice and switched off the cooker. “That’ll do,” she said, already feeling better.

  Then, with a running jump, she darted across the room and landed on the armchair near Laura. “Come on, Cirrus. Nim Nim.” Both the kittens looked up from where Laura was stroking them, and got up, padding over the soft terrain of the couch toward Faith.

  “Oh, so that’s how it is,” Laura said. “As soon as Mommy comes back everyone forgets about Auntie Laura.” She crossed her arms, pretending to be angry.

  “Aw, they love you, you big doof, you know that,” Faith said. Nimbus came and rubbed his head up against Faith’s palm. “Hello, baby,” she said.

  “Ooh!” Laura said. “I forgot!”

  Nathan looked up from his curry, which was smelling ever more delicious by the minute. “Forgot what?”

  “I wanted to ask you both something,” Laura said. “Both of you, just shout out your answers, okay?”

  Faith frowned and smiled at the same time. “Okay…?”

  “Right, no thinking,” Laura said. “Just blurt out your answer right away. Okay, first, which is a better color, blue or red?”

  “Blue!” Faith and Nathan said at the same time.

  “Okay,” Laura said, giggling. “Who’s better looking, Brad Pitt or George Clooney?”

  “I’m not answering that!” Nathan protested.

  Faith bit her lip. “Hmm, think it’s gotta be Brad.”

  “Really?” Laura said, scrunching up her nose. “I’d say George ten times over. Anyways, next question.”

  “Where is this going?” Faith asked.

  “Just trust me! Next question, where would you rather go on vacation, umm, the Bahamas or Australia?”

  “Australia,” Nathan said.

  Faith blurted out, “Bahamas!”

  Laura nodded. “Last question, blurt out the first thing that comes in your head. Okay, who’s lying about where the money comes from – Marigold or Chad?”

  “Chad!” Faith shouted.

  “Marigold!” Nathan said at the same time.

  “Ugh,” Laura sighed, then threw herself back against the back of the couch, slouching all the way down in the seat. “Why couldn’t you both just say the same darn name?”

  Faith giggled. “I don’t think that’s very scientific.”

  Laura stuck her tongue out. “Come on then, Einstein. How are we going to find out? I’m sure that’s got something to do with the murder.”

  “Nah,” Nathan said dismissively. He had a teaspoon in his hand and scooped up a bit of his bubbling tomato sauce, then took a lick from the spoon. “Ahh! Hot!” he said, then ran to the sink, opened the faucet and stuck his tongue under it.

  Laura rolled her eyes at him. “You’re a hazard in the kitchen, cous.”

  “Ageuoafkalsgos.” Nathan said something, but the steady stream of water rendered it all meaningless.

  Faith nodded decisively. “I agree,” then giggled.

  “Hey, seriously, though,” Laura said. “Don’t you think it has something to do with everything that’s going on? It is weird, isn’t it?”

  “Nah,” Nathan said, finally emerging from under the faucet. “Probably just a misunderstanding or something. I still maintain it’s that Nico weirdo. I checked out his blog the other day, and—”

  “Ooh!” Laura squealed. “Are you a superfan? Are you a Nicoette now?”

  “Actually, they’re called Teabags,” Nathan said.

  Faith laughed. “Huh?”

  “His fans are called Teabags,” Nathan explained. “I saw it on his site. That Tattooed Baking Guy. TBG. Teabag.”

  Laura shook her head. “Don’t people have better things to do with their lives? Ooh, my life has such purpose and meaning, now that I’m a Teabag!”

  Faith spluttered.

  “Seriously, though,” Nathan said. “He’s got fans coming from all over to the final on Saturday. I doubt everyone will fit in the park, to be honest.”

  Laura grinned. “Looks like if we win, we’re going to get chased by an enormous group of Teabags.”

  Faith burst out laughing. “Oh, man. That image. I have to check out that blog later, even if just for a laugh.”

  “Well, that’s done.” Nathan flicked off the stove knob.

  “About time,” Laura said. “I’m starved.”

  Nathan turned to look at her, pretending to be shocked. “Oh, no! You didn’t tell me to make any for you.”

  “Oh, ha ha,” Laura said.

  It used to bother Faith when Laura and Nathan play-bickered, as sometimes it tipped over into genuine annoyance, but she was glad of it then. It felt comforting and familiar and safe. And with the murder investigation, and the contest, and Grandma Bessie, and Deputy Sheriff Valdez all swimming around in her head, it was more than welcome. She smiled as Nimbus nuzzled into her, and Cirrus, tired of snuggling, started stalking up and down the armchair back.

  The room was warm and fragrant with the spices and rich heat of the food, while Bob Marley was still rocking away in the background.

  Things felt good, at least for that moment in time. And that was enough for Faith right then.

  *****

  Chapter 15

  “You’re a wrinkled old hag, did you know that?” Nico spat over the table at Tamalynn.

  Everyone gasped, then it went silent in the private dining room of the Paradise Inn. Faith made huge eyes at Laura, who looked like she was about to burst with surprise.

  Tamalynn, despite the accusation being ridiculous – she was young and beautiful – collapsed against Chad’s arm and burst into tears.

  Chad gently pushed her back to her seat, his strong hands looking enormous against her fragile arms. Then he stood up, his stance firm as he looked down at Nico, who had his arm wrapped around one of his Teabags. “If you want to settle this outside, you best believe I’m ready.”

  “Nah.” Nico sipped from his champagne flute and tried to look nonchalant, but Faith could see a vein in his temple throb. “I’m fine just here, thanks.”

  “You say one more word about my wife and I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Nico mocked. “Have you seen how much weight I can deadlift? You obviously haven’t read my blog. Otherwise you’d know there’s no way you can test me. Look at you, you’re all puny. It’s only compared to your ridiculously skinny wife that you look like an actual man.”

  “Enough!” Marigold said. She shot up from her seat at the head of the table, her eyes piercing. “Enough, enough, enough! Chad, was this what my mom would have wanted? This is supposed to be the finalists’ dinner, full of laughing and talking and celebration and HAPPINESS.” She said that in such a fierce way that Faith had to swallow a chuckle at the irony. “That’s it. This contest is NEVER running again.”

  Chad sat down. “I’ll be doing it next year. And he—” pointing at Nico “—will be barred from the competition for life. He’s insulted every single judge now.” Then he murmured under his breath, “Not to mention probably killed one of them.”

  Nico had been smiling with his Teabag, and tucking her hair behind her ear to playfully whisper in it, as if he couldn’t even hear Chad. But right then, Nico’s hearing was suddenly crystal clear. “Erm, what? Did everyone just hear that?”

  “He... he didn’t mean it,” Tamalynn said quickly. “Did you, Chad, darling?”

  “Are you trying to look out for him now?!” Chad said, his voice straining
with frustration.

  “No!” Tamalynn burst into tears and snuggled into Chad’s neck.

  Nico stood, pushing away his plate of lasagna and potatoes in disgust. “I don’t know how you could let them serve us this subpar food, Marigold,” he said. “We’re culinary experts, for goodness sake.” Then he sneered as he looked at Tamalynn. “Well, some of us. Others have no qualifications whatsoever and are there just to tag along. You know what, this whole competition is a joke. I should just drop out.”

  “Oh no, don’t do that,” Teabag said, her dark eyes and long fake lashes imploring.

  “No prize money chucked her way, if he quits,” Laura whispered into Faith’s ear.

  Faith watched the scene unfold, unable to take her eyes off the chaos, like when passing a car crash. What she didn’t get was why Nico seemed so emotional. He’d been emotional with Karen, and now with the other judges. Was he just overinvested emotionally in the contest? Or was something else going on?

  “I don’t understand,” Tamalynn said tearfully. “This is supposed to be a nice, friendly, fun contest. Nico, why are you being so horrible to everyone?”

  He put on a horribly ugly face. “Why are you being so horrible to everyone? Grow a backbone, woman, sheesh.”

  “That’s it!” Marigold marched over to him. “Get out. Now. If you don’t get out now you’ll be barred from the final, and from this contest for life.”

  Nico sneered. “I thought this was the last one, Goldie. Anyways, if you do run it again, don’t allow that woman to be on the judging panel.” He tossed a thumb back at Tamalynn. “Make sure it’s actually someone who can bake their own cupcake if they had to. Someone who knows what a whisk is, maybe. You know, someone who gets to decide the future careers of highly skilled bakers shouldn’t be a half-witted wife who can’t even pour from a milk carton.”

  Chad leapt over the table to tackle him, and Faith and Laura had to grip him back before he did some serious damage.

  Nico sashayed away, laughing. “Temper, temper, old man,” he said. Then he winked at Faith and Laura in a way that made Faith want to go home and take a thorough shower. “See you in the final, ladies.” Then he and his Teabag strutted out, arm in arm. She laughed and the sound went right through Faith, making her shiver.

  “Namaste!” Laura called out after him sarcastically.

  The room fell into a stunned silence after that. Tamalynn returned to her plate, but Faith caught her wiping tears away.

  “I have to go,” Chad said in a tense voice, getting up from his chair and tossing his napkin right into his meal.

  “Where are you going?” Tamalynn asked desperately. “Please don’t go, darling.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute, Tamalynn,” he said. “Can’t you handle being without me for a few darn minutes? Look, all these other people are here.” Then, before she could respond, he was gone.

  Faith bit her lip as she watched him leave. She hoped it wasn’t about to turn into another murderous situation. She could definitely imagine things getting out of hand between Chad and Nico.

  The only sound in the room was the clinking of cutlery against the plates.

  Tamalynn eventually sighed. “Despite Nico being vulgar and rude and just…” She swallowed, and dabbed the corners of her eyes with her napkin. “Just absolutely vile… I think he might be right in a way.”

  Faith looked up, surprised.

  “Oh?” Marigold said.

  “Mm. I don’t know enough about baking to be a judge,” Tamalynn said, hanging her head. “Marigold, it was very kind of you to allow me to be on the panel, but I shouldn’t have accepted.”

  Marigold looked stunned. “Well… you have done a good job.”

  “Maybe,” Tamalynn said, looking doubtful. “But maybe not. I know Nico has it in for me because I scored him quite low on the last round. But who says I’m qualified to give out any scores, much less low ones? He has thousands of fans! Who am I compared with him?”

  Laura was cutting up one of her potatoes. “Well, you’re a lot nicer, for one thing.”

  “Anyways, enough about me,” Tamalynn said. “I can’t stand being the center of attention. Can we talk about something else, please?”

  That worked very well for Faith. A question had been brewing in her mind. “So Marigold, Deputy Valdez just let you out?”

  Marigold pursed her lips. “Grudgingly. The Sheriff pointed out to him that all my nails were intact and none looked like they’d been newly stuck on compared with the others. Then when he couldn’t get any further evidence to charge me, he was ordered to let me go.”

  “That’s good,” Faith said, though she wondered if he was going to be coming for her next.

  Marigold banged her elbows down on the table top and thrust her head into her hands. “No, it’s not good. It’s not good at all. This whole thing has been a disaster from start to finish. It’s my mother’s spirit, wreaking revenge on me. I know it is.”

  “Huh?” Laura said.

  Marigold looked up at them, her eyes welling up with tears. “I didn’t go to her funeral,” she said. “But it wasn’t because I didn’t love her. I did love her, in spite of… in spite of everything. I didn’t go because… I just couldn’t. I couldn’t believe she was dead. Just when we were starting to talk again. When I had hope that…” She trailed off, then swigged back a huge gulp from her glass of red wine. “She’s furious with me. Furious. She’s wreaking havoc from beyond the grave, to punish me.”

  Faith struggled to know what to say.

  So did everyone else, apparently, because Marigold’s words seemed to echo around the room.

  “Nothing I ever did was good enough,” Marigold said. “Not even now. Well, that’s just fine. I don’t have to live in her shadow. I refuse to live in her shadow.”

  Faith nodded. “Marigold, do you think someone framed you?” Aware that Tamalynn was in the room, she said, “Maybe someone saw the basket Chad gave you and planted a nail of the same color as the varnish in it?” Her feeling was it was much more likely to be Chad himself. With Marigold out the way, he could carry on the contest as he pleased. But she seemed so keen to give it up anyway, that it didn’t really make sense. Surely he didn’t need to get her thrown in jail? Faith’s thoughts were beginning to tie her up in knots.

  Marigold jerked back, like Faith had slapped her in the face. “I… I don’t know. I… guess.”

  “I think it would be a man,” Laura said. “That would be a clever thing to do, wouldn’t it? Plant a woman’s fake nail, so you can slip under the radar.”

  Tamalynn shivered. “I think the whole thing’s creepy. As soon as the contest’s over, I’m not coming back here. Chad and I are packing all our bags beforehand, leaving them in the car, and heading straight off from the contest. This place is just too scary. Someone could get killed at any moment. I can barely sleep.”

  *****

  Chapter 16

  Grandma Bessie shoved her hand on her hip as she leant against the doorway. “What do you mean you haven’t decided what we’re going to bake for the final? It’s tomorrow, for pete’s sake!”

  Faith was sweeping up the tearoom floor after a long, hard day. After the lunch at the hotel, they’d had a busy Friday afternoon, rushed off their feet serving mothers and daughters, and little groups of tween schoolkids, who often passed by on Friday afternoons after school, on their way to the Paradise Point beach. Between serving customers, baking up a storm, and trying to figure out who on earth the murderer could be, Faith was totally frazzled. “Sorry, Grandma,” she said. Anything to keep the peace.

  “Sorry?!” Grandma Bessie said. “Oh, yes, Faith, sorry’s going to win us the competition.”

  “We’ll just make apple cinnamon cheesecakes,” Faith said, pushing the broom into the corner with the last bit of strength she had. “Everyone loves those. Don’t worry.”

  “Faith,” Grandma Bessie barked. Then she clapped. “Look at me, girl.”

  Faith turned, leaning on the
broom, trying not to look like she had an attitude. In truth, all she wanted to do was crawl back to her apartment and snuggle up in bed with her kittens. “Yes, Grandma?”

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Grandma Bessie said, “but it can get out of you right quick. Cheesecakes? This is a cupcake contest!”

  Faith paused for a moment, just realizing the mistake she’d made. Whoa. She really must have been exhausted.

  “You’re acting just like your mother,” Grandma Bessie said. “Doing less than what you’re capable of. I’m sorry, Faith, but I’m not going to let you slack on yourself or your talent. No, siree. We’re going to beat that tattooed boy with the bad attitude, and in style. And Laura and I need you to be at the top of your game.”

  Laura appeared from the kitchen doorway, sponge in hand (as was so often the case, since she loved to clean). “She’s right, you know. We’ve been so focused on trying to work out who killed Wilhelmina and Karen, that we haven’t been paying enough attention to actually winning the contest.”

  “And you can bet that Nico hasn’t been doing the same,” Grandma Bessie said. “He’s very focused, that boy. That’s one good thing I’ll say about him. Focused and determined. You can’t be all… wishy washy and expect to compete with that. You need to get your head in the game, Faith.”

  Faith knew neither Laura or Grandma Bessie were trying to hurt her. In fact, they were being encouraging. But then why did tears sting at the back of her eyes? She was so tired she could barely even think. “Fine,” she said, swallowing them down. “You’re right. Which cupcakes should we make? It’s ‘your signature style’, the theme, right?”

  Grandma Bessie crossed her arms. “Well, at least you remember that much.”

  “You should make them up, Faith,” Laura said. “You’re the creative one.”

  Faith expected Grandma Bessie to balk at that suggestion – Grandma was pretty creative, too – but she didn’t flinch. In fact, her no-nonsense blue eyes were locked onto Faith expectantly. “Well?”

  As Faith returned her gaze, something shifted within her. The operation money! She’d almost forgotten. Being swept up by trying to work out who the killer was, it had slipped her mind. A pool of guilt formed at the pit of her stomach, and she straightened up, her head held high. “All right,” she said, finding a smile. “Why don’t we put some coffee on to wake me up and we can get creating. What do you say?”