TABLE OF CONTENTS
IT CANNOLI BE MURDER
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHERRY LIMEADE CUPCAKES
It Cannoli Be
Murder
A Bread and Batter Cozy Mystery
Book 3
By
Karoline Barrett
Copyright 2017 Summer Prescott Books
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.
**This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.
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IT CANNOLI BE
MURDER
A Bread and Batter Cozy Mystery Book 3
CHAPTER 1
* * *
“Good morning, everyone!” The smell of just-baked cheddar cheese bagels welcomed me as I stepped through Bread and Batter Bakery’s propped open door. Busy handing out bagels and muffins to our earliest crowds, Olivia sent a quick wave in my general direction. I wiggled through the throng of customers, greeting most of them by name, then made my way to the back of the bakery.
“Hi, Kendra. Looks like we’re super busy this morning.”
“Good morning, you!” Kendra called to me over her shoulder. She was just finishing up unloading the dishwasher.
“Love the color!” I replied. Her hair was light pink today. Very summer-like.
She put away the last bowl and faced me. “Thanks! I wasn’t sure about the color, but it’s grown on me. Yeah, it’s great having such a big crowd. I prefer when it’s busy like this. I’m going to go up front and help Olivia with the masses, unless you need me to help you with anything back here?”
“No, go ahead and help Liv.” I shooed her away. “She’s got her hands full. I’ve got a cupcake order I have to get ready for a bachelorette party tonight. White Russian with vodka buttercream icing. Sean’s mother emailed me the recipe. What do you think? I made a sample batch the other day, and they were delicious.”
Kendra’s eyes grew wide. “And you didn’t share?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make some extra for Olivia, you, and me.”
“Awesome!” Kendra took her apron off the back of the door.
“Can you hand me mine, please?”
“Here you go.”
I caught her toss, tied it on, then gathered the flour, vodka, Irish butter, buttermilk, and Kahlua I’d bought a few days ago. Yesterday afternoon, I’d stopped at Happy Hens Farm and gotten some of their free-range organic eggs. Their motto is Happy Hens, Fabulous Eggs. And they truly are fabulous.
I assembled my bowls, measuring cups, and various utensils. I loved our spotless, gleaming bakery kitchen. Olivia and I had worked hard for this. A couple of months ago we’d had white subway tile backsplash installed behind our behemoth white ceramic double sink. I pulled out my iPod from my purse, inserted my earbuds, and listened to one of my favorite groups while I began working on the cupcakes. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the sugary, sweet vanilla scent of cupcakes. My happy place, and second home.
###
“Are you serious, Molly?” Olivia was putting that morning’s left-over bagels into plastic bags. We’d sell them tomorrow morning at half-price; they’d still be delicious. “Kale?”
I’d just returned from delivering my cupcakes to the bachelorette party. I was pleased when everyone ooh’d and aah’d over them. The morning Bread and Batter crowd was long gone, and it was quiet except for the occasional customer looking for a mid-afternoon snack along with a coffee or tea pick-me-up. “Why not? Kale’s healthy. It’s not like I suggested dirt bagels.”
“So are frogs’ legs, but I don’t want a bagel made from them.” Olivia turned her back on me and returned to her task.
I looked at Kendra, hoping for backup. “Care to offer an opinion?”
She was busy taking the money out of the cash register and tucking it into a zippered pouch. “Sorry, Moll. I have to say I see Olivia’s point. I want to slap kale. I hate the stuff.”
Kendra obviously wasn’t going to help my cause. “You can’t compare frog’s legs to kale, for heaven sakes. When was the last time you saw frog’s legs on a menu anywhere, Liv?” I countered as she tied up the last bag of bagels. “I’m not sure that they’re even remotely healthy for you. Anyway, our spinach bagels are best sellers. Kale is spinach-ish.”
Olivia's brow puckered in that stubborn look I knew so well. "No, kale is kale. I don’t think anyone likes kale. They just say they do because it’s the vegetable of the year or something. It’s trendy. Like yogurt. Next year Merveille des Quatre Saisons will have replaced kale. And I suggest we don’t make bagels out of that, either.”
“I’ve never even heard of that, whatever it is.” I suspected she’d made it up.
She looked slightly incredulous. “It’s lettuce, Molly. Originally from France. It means Marvel of the Four Seasons.”
“As intriguing as it sounds, I’ve never seen it in our grocery store’s produce aisle, and they have everything. The coffee shop in the outlet mall sells kale smoothies.” I wasn’t ready to bail on my kale bagel idea just yet.
“Have you tried a kale smoothie?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “I bet not. You wouldn’t like it if you did.”
I thought about it. Not whether I’ve tried one, I haven’t. I was thinking about the probability that someday I would try one. I admit, even as a lacto-ovo vegetarian the thought of downing a glass of green anything turns my stomach. Maybe Olivia had a point. She’s been my best friend since our days in the Destiny Memorial Hospital newborn nursery, and she’s my business partner. She knows me as well as I know her.
Our bakery is on Lacey Street in Destiny. It’s a quiet street, right off Main, with lots of nice shops. Olivia, Kendra—our superb and adorable assistant—and I spend our time making and selling bagels, breads, muffins, doughnuts, and cupcakes. We sell other fun stuff, too, like tote bags, mugs, and t-shirts, which our out-of-towners, and in-towners, seemingly cannot get enough of.
For me, this all happens when I’m not busy trying to help solve murders, that is. Not that our town is rife with murder, but two in the last two-and-a-half years, or thereabouts, is closer to rife than I’m comfortable with.
Destiny is a small town in upstate New York on Destiny Lake, where apple orchards and wineries surround us, and the annual Apple Harvest Festival on Halloween day draws a huge crowd. Despite the murders, it’s a lovely place. It’s clean, has lots of cute stores, stately Victorian homes, flowery tree-lined cobbled side streets, and you can’t beat being on the lake in good weather. Our citizens tend to be friendly and neighborly, and most of us know each other rather well, which can be awesome or awful.
If you mind appearing on the front page of our small newspaper, The Destiny Trumpet at any time for any reason, or getting a loud lecture by the hard-of-hearing checkout lady at Belden’s Drugstore on why the tampons you’re trying unobtrusively to buy could cause serious issues in your private girly parts (her phrase, not mine), then this town may not be the place for you. I grew up here and most days, murders notwithstanding, it’s home, and I love it.
I threw my hands up in resignation. “Okay, you win. Scratch the kale.”
Olivia’s frown was instantly replaced by her trademark dazzling, toothy, smile. “Good. It’s not that I don’t think your ideas aren’t usually brilliant, but kale? Um, no. Anyway, I thought you wanted to expand our breads. Everyone adored your cranberry orange bread last week. What are you doing next?”
“You’re right. I do want to do more bread. This week I’m doing cheese baguettes, a fig and walnut bread, and an olive loaf. I’m surprised the olive loaf was such a big hit, I waffled back and forth about it. I may do some challah breads as well. Last time I did, they sold out in a day.”
She patted my shoulder. “Sounds delicious. If we get any busier, we’ll have to move to a bigger bakery.” She turned to Kendra. “Thank goodness we have you helping us.”
“My pleasure, ladies. By the way, Molly, isn’t your mom coming by to discuss the Mellon School benefit?”
“She should be here any minute,” I replied, glancing out the front window.
The Mellon School for Girls is a very small and exclusive private girls’ college preparatory school, serving grades seven through twelve. Unfortunately, the school, which has been around since 1920, may face extinction unless they can raise enough money to keep the venerable institution up and running. With expenses mounting, and the old building in need of serious repairs, tuition only goes so far.
My mother is on the board of directors. I suggested recently that the school throw a benefit for all the alumnae, making sure to include the notable ones, of which the school proclaims, there are many. Of course, notable is in the mind of the beholder. The board thought it was a marvelous idea. So far, she’s had an enthusiastic response, including one from United States senator, Rachael Rydell.
The bell jingled and Anne Tyler, also known as my mother, Mellon School benefit planner, and director of our Destiny–Oleandra County Public Library, appeared. “Hi there everyone.”
“Hi, Mom,” I greeted her.
“Hi, Mrs. Tyler,” Olivia and Kendra chimed in unison.
“I’ve told you both that it’s perfectly fine to call me Annie. Mrs. Tyler sounds like my mother-in-law and makes me feel ancient. I’m running late, sorry. I had to explain to a three-year-old why an adult piece of classic literary work was not appropriate for him to carry around and chew on.”
Kendra giggled. “Who knew the library could be such a fun place?”
“Believe it or not, it’s rarely boring. The little guy just loved the cover, I guess. It was so precious. He had a death grip on that thing. His mother finally distracted him with Aloysius the Alligator. Anyway, this turned out to be a fantastic idea, Molly. And you will never guess who’s coming to the benefit. She was one of the first people to accept.”
“Taylor Swift?” offered Kendra, looking thrilled at the prospect. “I absolutely love her and her music.”
“No, sweetheart, it’s not her. I wish, but as far as I know, Taylor didn’t attend Mellon. I am referring to Melanie Stewart. She’s Senator Rydell’s twin, can you believe it? I’m not sure where I heard it, but it’s not something they publicize, I guess, even though it’s a well-known fact. They’re rarely seen together, though.”
“That should make for an exciting benefit,” I told her.
“Who’s Melanie Stewart?” asked Olivia.
“I’ve never heard of her,” added Kendra.
“I thought you were up on all the celebrities, Kendra,” I teased. She’s definitely more up on who’s who in the entertainment world than I am. Last year, perfume maven Serafina Alessi came to town in her opulent pink and black British luxury vehicle, and I had no idea who she was. Kendra had had a hard time believing that.
Since then, Serafina has gone from stranger, to murder suspect, to good friend. Not only has she opened a shop here, but she also paid for the rest of the library renovation, earning her a forever place in all of our hearts. All that aside, there’s no question I’d beat Kendra in a game of Name That Flambé and the Chef Who Made It.
“I am, so she can’t be too famous if I’ve never heard of her,” Kendra retorted.
“Melanie is the star of Sunnyvale Cove,” I explained. “It’s the last remaining afternoon soap opera on a major network. It’s shot in New York City.” I don’t watch it mind you, and it sounds more like a retirement village than a soap opera, but people, including my grandmother, still seem to love it.
“No wonder I’ve never heard of her. Who watches those things?” Kendra dismissed my information.
“It looks like lots of people do,” declared my mother. “She’s won a couple of daytime Emmys.”
Kendra was still unimpressed. “If you say so. I’m going to go straighten up in the back. Let me know if someone really famous is coming to the benefit.”
She chuckled. “I will, Kendra. So.” She whirled around to Olivia and me. “Melanie told me she rented a lake house for the summer. We’ve got Serafina and now Melanie. So exciting to have these famous women. Maybe Destiny will become one of these off-the-beaten-path towns that celebrities flock to.”
“That would be wonderful!” exclaimed Olivia.
My mother squeezed Olivia’s arm. “Wouldn’t it? I think it’d be fun to rub elbows with celebrities. Think of the extra business for Bread and Batter, and all the other businesses in town. Anyway, will you do the desserts for our event? Sorry for the short notice, I meant to ask you long before now. I can’t believe it’s only four days away. Everything sort of came together at the last minute. I hope it’s not going to be too much of a rush for the three of you.”
“We can handle it. What are you looking for?” I asked.
“Wait. I’ll get a pad and a pen. We can sit down and talk about it.” Olivia scooted off.
When she returned, the three of us settled in one of the booths to discuss the upcoming Mellon School for Girls benefit, and exactly what my mother wanted Bread and Batter to provide.
CHAPTER 2
* * *
The next morning, I got Noelle, my Basset hound, up at what she let me know was an ungodly hour. We set out for a long walk around our still sleeping neighborhood. When we returned home, I tried to bribe her into a good mood with a doggy treat, but she was having none of it. She curled up in the middle of the living room floor and was soon snoring away.
Home was a large Victorian where I rent a spacious, cozy, sunny apartment from Dorothy Rose Brand, affectionately known as Dottie to myself, and her other tenant, Detective Sean
Corsino. Sean’s truck was gone already when we’d left for our walk. Besides being a detective here in Destiny, he’s also, lucky me, the man in my life. While he’s not crazy about my involvement in the mystery solving business, I think he’s concluded that there isn’t much he can do about it. Besides, he can’t deny I have a certain talent for it. That’s the way I look at it, anyway.
He gave me Noelle a few Christmases ago when she was just a puppy, and I adore her. She can’t help it if she’s not a morning dog. I’m also quite in love with Sean and his Basset hound, Beau. I scooped up the paper that was sitting in front of the door. I poured Noelle a dish of food, gave her fresh water, then retrieved my mango and banana overnight oats out of the refrigerator. I pulled The Destiny Trumpet out of its orange plastic cocoon and looked at the headline, my spoonful of oats paused in the air.
ROCCO MASTROSTEFANO BUYS SWEET HILL WINERY
Rocco “Squeaky Clean” Mastrostefano has purchased Sweet Hill Winery and intends to produce his own wine as soon as possible. No news on whether he plans to change Sweet Hill’s name. Mr. Mastrostefano is the alleged consigliere for the Bellafiori crime family in New York City and is rumored to be next in line to be capo bastone. Mastrostefano has faced multiple extortion, bookmaking, and loan-sharking charges, but these allegations, made in court statements by the FBI and the U.S. Justice Department, have never been proved in any court. He has never been convicted of a felony crime, despite numerous attempts by federal investigators.
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