“You’re being ridiculous,” Cici said. “Mel is a professional.”
“Ha!” Brittany scoffed. “Either hire someone else or I’ll file a complaint that might go as far as a lawsuit.”
“Confections might be a good option,” Oz said. He looked at Cici and explained, “The owner hates Mel.”
Mel gave him an outraged look. He was sending work Olivia’s way?
“Excellent!” Brittany said. “We’ll take her as our baker.”
“Fine,” Cici snapped. “Anka Holland has taken over the position of lead judge in Mariel’s place. I will apprise her of the situation. If this Confections person agrees, we’ll divide the competitors amongst the two of you and make sure the recipes are anonymous, assuring that there is no advantage given.”
“That will do,” Brittany said. Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode away. Destiny followed her mother like a submissive shadow. Mel had never been more grateful for her own mother than she was at that moment.
“You know, it’s actually a good idea,” Mel said.
Honestly, she was relieved, mostly because now she wouldn’t have to bake a million lousy-tasting cupcakes. She could only imagine what a teen girl would put in a cupcake. Artificial sweetener? Bleck. Mountain Dew? Gross. Pixy Stix? Gag. The possibilities were endlessly horrifying.
“Who is Anka Holland?” Oz asked.
“Second runner-up to Mariel Mars her entire pageant career,” Cici said. “I was lucky that she happened to be in town and available to take Mariel’s place.”
“She just happened to be in town?” Mel asked.
“Well, she was hoping to be involved in the Miss Sweet Tiara seventy-fifth anniversary event, but as a runner-up, we really didn’t need her until—well, until now,” Cici said. “She lives in Los Angeles, but was in Scottsdale to attend the Barrett Jackson car auction with her husband and do some charity work for underprivileged children.”
Oz and Mel exchanged a look and Mel knew he was thinking the same thing she was—that it was awfully convenient for this Anka person to be here just when they needed her most. It felt almost as if it had been planned.
Mel wanted to ask Cici about it, but she was unclear as to how to go about that without it sounding as if she were accusing Anka the runner-up of being a murderess.
“Well, I’d better go contact this Confections person,” Cici said. She glanced sourly after Brittany and Destiny. “Are you sure she’ll be willing to do it?”
“Oh, mention my name and you can bet your sparkly tiara on it,” Mel said.
“Huh.” Cici gave an unladylike snort before she strode off in the direction of the pageant headquarters.
“Why do I get the feeling Cici isn’t telling us everything?” Mel asked Oz.
“‘That’s why her hair is so big, it’s full of secrets,’” he replied.
Mel glanced at him and frowned. “Oh, I know it, don’t help me.”
Oz watched her as Mel tried to pull the movie he had just quoted from her memory banks. Mel pressed her fingertips to her temples and concentrated. She could see it, but it was just out of reach.
“What’s wrong with her?” a male voice asked Oz. “She looks like she’s trying to blow things up with her mind.”
“Movie quote,” Oz muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “I think I’ve stumped her. A first.”
“Shhh,” Mel hushed them. “I almost have it.”
“What was it?” the male voice whispered, and Mel realized it was Manny, which made her even more flustered, although she told herself that was ridiculous.
Oz repeated his big hair with secrets line.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Manny said. Mel held up her hand to stop him but it was too late. “Mean Girls.”
Mel opened her eyes and glared at them. “I knew that!”
Manny and Oz were watching her with matching doleful expressions.
“Sure you did,” Manny said. He winked at her and Mel felt her cheeks grow warm.
How did he do that? The man had magnetism coming out his ears, but she would not succumb to it. She was barely managing her whatever with Joe. She was not going to add the handsome detective into the mix.
A group of pageant attendees approached the cupcake tower and Oz nodded at Mel, letting her know he was on it.
“I did too know it,” Mel said as they moved aside, giving Oz more room to work.
“Uh-huh,” he said.
“So, what’s going on with the investigation?” she asked. “Any leads?”
“None that you want to hear about,” he said.
Mel stiffened. She heard the cautionary tone of his voice and she knew that it meant Lupe was far from being off the suspect list.
“She didn’t do it,” Mel said.
“Who?” Manny returned. His dark eyes were watching her intently.
“Oh, don’t go all detective on me,” she chided him. “You know who I’m talking about.”
“Mel, she had motive and opportunity,” he said. “You may not like it, but there it is.”
“She’s not the only one,” Mel said. “What about this new judge, Anka Holland? Awfully convenient that she just happens to be in town and ready to fill in when her lifetime rival Mariel is murdered, don’t you think?”
Mel didn’t realize that she had her hands on her hips and was walking forward, forcing Manny to put it in reverse until they’d crossed the room and she had him trapped against the wall.
“You’re gorgeous when you’re mad, you know that, right?” he asked. Now his gaze positively crackled with heat and Mel stepped back as if she might get hit by an errant blast of electricity.
“I . . . uh . . . that’s not . . .” She stammered to a stop. She shook her head to regroup, cleared her throat, and glowered at him. “My point is that Lupe is not the only one with a motive, not that I even admit that she has one, and you need to be looking at others and not her.”
Manny tipped his head to the side and studied her. “I make you nervous, don’t I?”
“Off topic,” Mel declared. She put her hand over her throat as if she could calm her erratic heartbeat.
Manny smiled. “So, what’s going on with you and DeLaura?”
“Way off topic!” Mel said. Her voice was shrill, as if she were calling a foul.
“That’s a non-answer,” he said. “If I’m going to be your number two, I think I should be kept apprised of my status.”
“You’re not my number two,” Mel said.
“Oh, am I getting moved up to the number one spot?” he asked. Manny wiggled his eyebrows and Mel shook her head.
“I’m not discussing this with you,” she said.
“Fine. So long as “the weasel” doesn’t jump the line,” he said.
Mel slapped her forehead with her palm. “You’re impossible.”
Manny nodded as if this was a fair assessment. “Sort of comes with the job.”
“Does Uncle Stan think Lupe is the most likely suspect?” Mel asked.
“He’s pretty resistant to the idea,” Manny said. “I think it’s because he knows her as Oz’s skateboard buddy. It’s clouding his judgment.”
“Is it?” Mel asked. “Or are his instincts correct?”
“Mel, a woman was murdered,” Manny said. “All personal stuff aside, I take that very seriously and I will see that justice is served.”
He set his jaw. All flirtatiousness was gone and in its place was the very determined-looking detective she had first met on the scene of a murder. He looked as immovable as a pile of granite.
“I still say Anka is suspicious, and I’m going to find out who else might have had a motive to murder Mariel. She wasn’t a nice person, as I’m sure your investigation has shown.”
“Just because you lack social skills doesn’t mean you deserve to be stra
ngled with a sash,” Manny said.
“Well, of course not,” Mel said. “I’m just saying that mean people acquire lots of enemies and before you accuse anyone of the crime, you need to make sure you have the right person.”
Manny crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. “Really? Stan and I were unclear on that.”
“Sarcasm does not become you,” Mel said, meeting his stony gaze with one of her own. She mimicked his stance and crossed her arms in front of her.
“Mel!” Someone called her from across the lobby. She turned to see Joyce running toward her. “Mel, we have a situation!”
Twenty
“Mom, what do you mean?” Mel asked. She could feel Manny stiffen beside her, as if waiting for the announcement of another body.
“It’s Lupe,” Joyce said. “We have a major problem with Lupe.”
“What sort of problem?” Manny asked.
Joyce glanced at him and then shook her head. “Really, detective, unless you know how to teach a girl to carry a tune or bust out the hip-hop moves in twenty-four hours, this is of no interest to you.”
Manny and Mel exchanged bewildered looks.
“In English, Mom,” Mel said. “What’s the problem?”
“Lupe has no talent,” Joyce wailed. “None!”
Manny looked at Joyce in disbelief and Mel knew he had been expecting a confession of Lupe’s involvement in the murder.
“And that’s just the beginning,” Joyce said. “I’ve been checking out the dresses and gowns of some of the competition. Oh, my, we are in way over our heads. Did you know that horrible Richards woman paid over three thousand dollars for Destiny’s gown?”
“Mom, you didn’t, did you?”
“No! Not only do I not have that kind of money but there is no time!”
“Maybe I can contact Alma Rodriguez,” Mel said. “She’s a designer, maybe she has some rejects she can loan us.”
“But what about Lupe’s talent?” Joyce cried.
“Hey, is that Stan calling me?” Manny glanced across the lobby. There was no sign of Uncle Stan. “Why, yes, I think it is. Excuse me.”
Mel watched him go, noting that only the speed of sound moved faster.
“Where is Lupe now?” Mel asked.
“She’s talking to Oz. I think she is feeling utterly defeated,” Joyce said. “This is all my fault.”
“No, it isn’t,” Mel said. “She wanted to enter the pageant for the scholarship and you’re helping her. That was very kind of you, and this competition is far from over.”
Together they walked back to the cupcake tower, where they found Lupe standing beside Oz. Lupe was wearing a short robe over her bathing suit. It was pale blue, the same shade as her suit and high-heeled sandals. Her hair was long and loose and her makeup was light. She looked like she should be on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Mel was once again shocked that such a young beauty had been hidden beneath the colorfully dyed bangs and baggy black clothes all this time.
She was about to say as much to Oz, but he had the most peculiar look on his face. She realized that with his hair slick backed he couldn’t hide his face, or the fact that his gaze kept straying to Lupe’s very long legs as if he, too, couldn’t believe such a pretty girl had been his skateboard sidekick all this time. Mel almost felt bad for him.
“Oz, are you listening to me?” Lupe implored.
“Of course, I’m listening,” he said as he fussed with the cupcake tower. Mel noticed he kept moving the same cupcakes up and down, as if he couldn’t decide where to put them. She suspected it was so he could stay busy and not stare at his friend.
“Well, what do you think I should do?” Lupe asked. “The scholarship is riding on this. I can’t blow it.”
Her voice wobbled and Mel could tell she was on the brink of tears. Oz must have heard it, too, because he finally turned to face her and his voice was kind when he said, “It’ll be okay. You’ll come up with a talent. Don’t worry.”
“But what if I can’t?” Lupe cried. “And then there’s the whole murder investigation. Everyone here thinks I did it and they stare and whisper about me whenever I come into the room.”
“Hey, hey,” Oz said as he opened his arms and pulled her into a hug. “The only reason they stare and whisper is because you’re the most beautiful girl in the room and they can’t believe their eyes when they look at you.”
Lupe snorted, but Oz was undeterred.
“Now, I don’t want to see any tears or hear any more negative talk,” he said. “I’ll take care of your talent. Don’t you worry. You just get out to the pool area and sashay your little butt off. Don’t forget I have a stake in you winning this thing.”
Lupe stepped back and smiled at Oz. Then she quickly stepped forward and kissed his cheek. He looked temporarily blinded.
“Thanks, Oz, I knew you’d have my back,” Lupe said.
An announcer’s voice on the intercom announced that the swimsuit portion of the pageant was about to begin poolside.
“Okay, we’re on.” Joyce stepped forward and grabbed Lupe’s hand. Together they hurried toward the patio where the judges, guests, and contestants were gathering.
Mel watched them go before she turned back to Oz.
“That was really nice of you,” she said.
He shrugged. “I need my hundred dollars back.”
“Sure you do,” Mel said. “And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you have just noticed that Lupe is in fact a girl.”
Oz’s mouth dropped open. He looked shocked by the accusation but Mel knew better.
“I always knew she was a girl,” he protested.
“Pfff,” Mel scoffed.
“I did,” he said. “Okay, I didn’t know she was a hot girl, but I knew she was a girl.”
Mel grinned. “So still just friends?”
Oz groaned, as if his mortification were physically painful. “Please stop talking now.”
Mel pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “I’ll try but it’s just so cute.”
“Oh, god.” Oz closed his eyes and looked as if he were praying to be removed from the situation by any means available.
“Settle down, big guy, I’ll quit teasing,” Mel said. “Can you hold the fort by yourself for a while?”
“Why? Where are you going?” Oz looked alarmed.
“To tell everyone I’ve ever met about your crush on Lupe,” Mel said. Oz visibly paled and Mel slapped him on the shoulder. “Gotcha!”
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Nah, I’d miss you too much,” she said.
“Please don’t say anything to anyone. I’m having a hard enough time in my own head,” he said.
Mel immediately softened. She remembered how painful it had been to love Joe from afar when she was Oz’s age.
“I won’t say a word,” she said. “I promise.”
Oz slumped with relief.
“I am, however, going to see what we can do about Lupe’s dress, and if I can find out anything about Mariel from the other contestants,” Mel said.
“Do you think another contestant did her in?” Oz asked.
Mel shrugged. “No idea. But I want to throw any and every name that might have even the tiniest motive at Uncle Stan and Manny to, you know, help them out.”
Oz grinned. “In case I haven’t told you often enough, I’m really glad you’re on my team.”
“Likewise, Oz,” Mel said. “Back in a bit.”
With the bathing suit competition underway, Mel figured now was as good a time as any to try and chat up the legion of stage mothers who seemed to be flooding the resort.
Given that she was one of the bakers for the cupcake portion of the competition, she figured she could use that role as leverage to get the mothers to talk
to her.
She glanced over her shoulder to check on Oz one last time and noted that he stood with his phone to his ear. Any embarrassment he felt had obviously been left behind. She envied the resiliency of youth. If it had been her, she would have snarfed down four cupcakes by now, be considering her fifth, and still be mortified.
Since the bathing suit competition had been divided into three groups, Lupe being in the first group, Mel went to the large changing room/green room reserved for the contestants to dress and practice their talents and interviews.
Mel passed a girl in her bathing suit working on a spunky dance routine, another holding a hairbrush up to her mouth pretending to answer interview questions, and a third berating her mother about her makeup.
“I wanted the sparkly blue eye shadow, Mom,” the girl said with a whine that Mel suspected could cause ears to bleed. “Green is so last year and it doesn’t bring out the color of my eyes or match my bathing suit. Sheesh, can’t you get anything right?”
The mother apologized as she fumbled through the makeup bag, presumably looking for the blue eye shadow. Mel wasn’t sure who she wanted to slap more: the daughter for behaving so badly or the mother for taking it.
She scanned the room until she saw Lupe’s familiar purple tote bag sitting beside a vanity table in the corner. Next to the bag on a clothing rack hung Lupe’s very plain ivory gown.
Mel took out her phone. She figured she could take a picture of the gown and send it to Alma. Maybe the designer would have a quick fix for making it more of an eye popper.
As Mel fussed with getting the dress out of its clear plastic covering, she noted the other women in the room seemed to be keeping their distance. Mel wasn’t sure if it was because she was an outsider in the pageant world or because Lupe was the prime suspect in Mariel Mars’s murder.
“Hi,” she greeted the woman at the next makeup table.
The woman gave her an alarmed look and muttered something that sounded like “hello” but Mel wasn’t quite sure. The woman turned her back to Mel as if to discourage any further conversation.
Mel snapped a couple of pics and carefully rewrapped the dress. She wandered out of the room and into the hallway, where she quickly composed a text with the picture attached and sent it to Alma.
Sugar and Iced (Cupcake Bakery Mystery) Page 11