by K. P. Hilton
CAKE AND TAXES
(A Yellow Rose Cozy Mystery – Book 2)
K. P. Hilton
About CAKE AND TAXES
Betty Hitchens has successfully opened her bakery, Betty's Cakes. Sales are up, there's been no recent drama in her life, and even her cat has stopped bringing in mice from outside. But nothing good lasts forever.
When an appraiser from the local appraisal district is found dead in her car, the list of possible suspects grows by the minute. Others soon become victims of terrible outbursts seemingly connected to her death.
The police begin investigating, and a close friend of Betty's becomes one of the prime suspects. She's convinced of his innocence, but will the small town baker figure out who the killer is before disaster strikes again?
Before it's all over, Betty will need help from close friend and ex-reporter Martin Lane and the mysterious Ojudh. All of whom eventually discover the old adage is true – that laws are like sausages, and it's better not to see how they're made. Or watch how they're enforced.
Table of Contents
About CAKE AND TAXES
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
Bobbi's Tomato Bruschetta
About the Author
Copyright © 2015.
All rights reserved by the author. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblances to any persons, living, or dead, are completely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Summer was well under way in Yellow Rose, TX. The schools were out, air-born allergens were lower than the year before, and sales were up at the bakery. Overall, business owner Betty Hitchens was having a good week.
Except that her latest creation was giving her fits.
A young couple in town was getting married and the bride's mother had ordered a cake. One with multicolored stripes and dots and stars on top and edible candies along the sides that looked like pearls. For some reason, that had been important to the woman. Simple enough, thought Betty. Except that the ingredients weren't cooperating.
Batter curdles had appeared on the first attempt at making the cake. Betty had solved that issue with beating the eggs more thoroughly before the next attempt. She also decided that the electric mixer was set at too high of a speed and adjusted it.
On the second attempt, though, the top crust had come out too hard. After some investigating, Betty realized the temperature was too high and the layers were cooked too close to the top of the oven. None of the problems were serious and she knew that adjusting to professional-quality equipment after working for years out of her kitchen at home would take some time. She was, however, ready for the learning curve to start flattening out.
She took a quick break and peaked out through the doorway to the front of the store. Fred Darby, a tall freckle faced young man, was straightening items in the display case. Soon, at nine o'clock, he'd unlock the door, signaling the beginning of another work day. Fred and his twin brother George took turns during the week working the front by helping customers and ringing up sales. They were each taking a summer break from their studies at the local community college. Brianna, Betty's daughter, was supposed to be helping her mother with the wedding cake but had said she was feeling under the weather and stayed at home that morning.
Betty stepped in and asked Fred if all was ready.
“Yes, ma'am. And it's about that time, isn't it?” he asked, checking his watch.
Betty nodded. “Did you catch the Cowboys game this weekend?”
Fred sighed. “I did. They played hard, but didn't quite pull it out this time.”
“They'll do better next week. There's still plenty of season left.” Betty was more of a UT fan, preferring college to professional football. But there were plenty of Cowboys fans around and she liked to be encouraging.
She returned to the kitchen area and cleaned up a little. After filling one of the trash containers, she pulled the plastic bag from within it and headed outside to the dumpster. As she was about to walk back inside, she heard an angry voice. She turned around and realized it was coming from someone standing in the alley behind Ned's hardware store, the storefront next to hers.
In fact, it was Ned's voice that she'd heard. He was talking to a professionally-dressed young woman who was wearing a short-sleeved red blouse, slacks, and matching shoes. Betty realized it was Marge Nelson, the wife of a dear friend of hers. From the angle where they stood and with the intensity of the heated exchange that was occurring, Betty didn't think they had noticed her.
She started to return to her work inside, considering it bad form to listen in on other people's conversations when she had the option of moving out of earshot. People nowadays, especially the younger generation, didn't seem to have the manners and common sense that her generation did, in her opinion.
Still...there were several loose bricks near the back door that she had been meaning to fix. She could contact the building owner who was technically responsible for repairs. But it was such a minor thing she had decided to take care of it herself when she'd discovered the problem a few days ago. And why put off again what I could take care of today? she thought.
As she poked and studied the bricks in question, she could hear Ned's voice rise and fall. Occasionally there was a pause where Betty thought Marge was responding to Ned, but Betty couldn't be sure. Several moments later, the two finished up and went back inside Ned's Friendly Hardware Store.
Betty concluded her assessment of the loose bricks and decided a little mortar or similar compound would do the trick. She'd stop by and pick some up later in the day or maybe in the evening after she closed up. She returned to her duties inside her shop and, after washing her hands thoroughly, focused once again on her cake.
Chapter 2
A little before four p.m., a man pushing a barrel on an upright dolly cart entered the shop. Martin Lane was a former newspaper reporter and currently ran a consulting business from his home. Since he was self-employed, he could arrange his schedule as he pleased and run errands for himself as well as others whenever he liked. A few days before, Betty had asked if he would pick up a few things for her store. He'd agreed since the two were good friends. Also, she tended to reward favors with cake and cake related treats. Which delighted Martin since he had a severe sweet tooth.
“A few more trips like this and you'll be in great shape,” Betty teased.
“I am in shape,” Martin replied, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. “Round is a shape.” After taking in several deep breaths of air and accepting a bottled water he said, “Where would you like this?”
A few feet over, a customer watched quizzically, but said nothing as Fred assisted her with her order.
“Over there in the corner. I've already cleared a spot,” Betty said.
Martin did as asked. He took the dolly outside, placed it in the trunk of his car, then brought in the domino set and handed it to Betty. “What made you decide to go 'old school'?”
Betty eyed the barr
el, wondering if she should place some type of cloth over it. Ultimately, she thought it looked fine the way it was. “If by 'old school' you mean why am I putting in a game whose popularity peaked when Roosevelt was in office, the answer is two-fold.”
Martin sucked in his stomach and examined his profile in one of the display cases out of the corner of his eye as Betty talked. She pretended not to notice.
“First,” she continued, “it was a request from a customer. Bernie Mendleson made a joke about the store having everything he liked in a small bakery minus a place for him and Gus to play. Gus is getting on in years and doesn't like getting out of the house much since his wife died. Anyway, this apparently is one activity that can lure him out, which I think would be good for him.”
“Well, that was sweet of you.” Martin thought for a moment, snapped his fingers, then said, “Hey, maybe you could use this to build a theme for the bakery. You know, like some of the chain restaurants and other eateries.”
Betty laughed. “No, good food and friendly service are what I'm striving for. If I can consistently deliver that, I'll be happy.”
The customer finished up her order and exited the store. As she left, Martin looked over at Fred who was now wiping down the counter. “What are your thoughts there, young man?” he asked, addressing Fred. “Besides being a nice good will gesture, think this will help bring in more customers? Besides Bernie and Gus, I mean?”
Fred glanced over at Betty, gave the question some thought, then said, “Maybe. But if you're planning on expanding foot traffic you'd probably be better off adding Wi-Fi.” He gave a small shrug. “Just my opinion.”
“Hmm,” Betty said. “That is the trend nowadays. Though I'm not sure I'm up to it yet financially. Also, there's the space consideration here inside. I don't think we can squeeze any more tables in here.”
“There's no rush, Betty,” Martin said. “It was only a suggestion. Why don't you start slow, and after Bernie and Gus get tired of dominoes, you expand to checkers?”
Betty laughed. “That's an expansion I think I can handle.”
The storefront door opened again and two women stepped in. One was pale and immediately sat at one of the nearby tables. The other sat opposite her and repeatedly told her everything was going to be all right.
Betty and Martin looked at each other and then at the women, taken aback at the abruptness of their entrance.
A few seconds later, the second woman said, “I'm sorry for the intrusion. But my friend just received word that someone she knows was found dead in her car at work.”
“No apologies needed,” Betty said. “I'm so sorry. What happened?”
“I got a call from my friend at the appraisal district,” the first woman said. “One of the employees there, Marge Nelson, was found dead in her car.”
Betty took in a deep breath. “Oh, my goodness,” she said.
“Apparently, she was found in the district's parking lot,” Fred said. “Shot twice. Once in the head. Once in the chest.” He looked up from his cell phone to the stunned faces of the people around him.
“Umm, according to the social media site I'm reading from, anyway. Nothing official from the news sites,” he added quietly.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Betty decided to drive over to see Tom Nelson and offer her respects on the passing of his wife and see how he was holding up. Tom lived on Abbott Circle on the east side of town. Traffic was usual, meaning light. Fortunately, Betty didn't have far to go.
The day was turning warm and clouds melted into the horizon. Mature landscaping, punctuated by large trees, dotted the landscape of the neighborhood. The homes were single-family residences owned chiefly by professionals.
Betty made several more turns and found the Nelson house. It was a large red brick home with a well-maintained yard. She drove through the open wrought iron gate and parked to the side on the circular drive. The housekeeper met her at the door and asked her to follow her down a lengthy hallway. The home's interior had high ceilings with multiple wet bars, French doors, and built-in bookcases.
They arrived at the office where Tom Nelson was working. He was a rugged man with a strong jawline and brown hair interspersed with flecks of gray. He wore an open-collared shirt with dark trousers. The top of his desk held stacks of paper so high they almost obscured his face. A large cup with mechanical pencils and erasers sat perched to his left. He nodded when the housekeeper announced Betty and continued working, staring at the screen on his computer.
After waiting for several moments, Betty tapped lightly on the door frame.
“Hope I'm not taking you away from something important,” Betty said, nodding at the computer.
Tom gave a wan smile. “Finishing up some business,” he said. He got up and gave Betty a light hug before returning to his seat and motioning Betty to a blue leather chair.
The housekeeper arrived with a tray, a covered container that gave off a rich aroma, and a pair of ornate cups.
“Coffee?” Tom asked.
“Half a cup. Black. Still working off breakfast.” Betty never knew quite what to say to someone who'd suffered the loss of a loved one. Over the years, she'd found it best to simply be there and let them direct the conversation if they were inclined to talk.
“Used to drink it that way myself years ago,” Tom said, pouring. “Need something a little sweeter nowadays, though.”
“Enjoy a good sugar rush myself, but it’s the caffeine that helps me through the day. ‘Coffee in the morning, Diet Coke in the afternoon.’ Refrain from a song recorded in the seventies.”
“Jackson Browne,” Tom said. “Except that it was cocaine, not soda he was singing about.”
Betty nodded. “Didn’t know you listened to music from that era.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised. I've listened to, as well as learned, a lot of things since I lived with you and Julian.”
“That was a good time in our lives. I'm glad we were there for you.” Three decades earlier, before Betty and Julian had their first child, a couple they knew were going through a rough patch in their marriage. Betty and her husband had taken Tom into their household for six months when he was five. Fortunately, after about six months, his parents worked out their difficulties and the family was reunited.
“You've done well for yourself,” Betty said, looking around the office.
“Thanks, yes. The accounting degree paid off. Turns out everyone needs organizing as it relates to numbers and money.” Tom shook his head. “I wish Marge hadn't insisted on working. We didn't need the extra income.”
“A lot of people like to keep their professional skills up,” Betty replied. “Plus, with Boone almost seventeen now and getting more independent, she may have simply craved more activity.” A display case on one of the shelves caught Betty's eye. “Nice medals,” she said.
Tom nodded. “Served in the infantry in Afghanistan. Marines.” Which Betty already knew. She had quietly followed Tom's progress during the years after he'd left her household. She'd tried not to intrude on his life too much as he grew up, but he'd always held a special place in her heart and she'd enjoyed watching him grow into a fine young man.
He swiveled slightly in his chair. His foot caught the edge of a backpack which tipped over onto a small tent in a roll-up bag.
“Back from a trip?” Betty asked.
“No. Planning one, actually. Haven't been on one in awhile. Decided I needed a little getaway for a day or two while things settle down around here.”
“Taking Boone with you?”
Tom shook his head. “No, he's going through enough right now. I've arranged for someone to look after him.”
Before Betty could ask where he was off to, the housekeeper reappeared and said that someone had arrived to discuss funeral arrangements.
Betty stood to leave. “Take care, Tom. Everyone's keeping you in their prayers,” she said. Tom gave her one last hug before walking her to the front of the house.
C
hapter 4
Bobbi Miller, Betty's eldest daughter, arrived at her mother's house shortly after Betty had returned from talking with Tom Nelson. Even though she still had a key to the front door, she rang the bell and waited outside.
Betty opened the door and let her inside. “I don't know why you do this every time you visit,” she said, shaking her head. “You know you're welcome to just come on in. As long as I'm alive and here, this is still your home.”
“It's a matter of respect,” Bobbi replied. “Plus, I wouldn't want to walk in on you if you happened to be entertaining some nice gentleman,” she said with a wink.
“That, young lady, is something you don't have to worry about,” Betty said with a huff. “I haven't had eyes for anyone since your father passed.”