Pumpkins And Trickery (A Cupcake Shop Mystery Book 2)

by D. S. Mowbray

I’ve decorated the shop interior with little autumn pumpkins and the tangerine color just makes me so excited for no reason. On the shop’s entrance, I’ve arranged a bunch of vines of all shapes and colors, and let’s say that you would feel the autumn vibe in my shop better than anywhere else.

  I just can’t stop—I’m a holiday lover. Different from my new neighbor, who told me nothing about the holidays did it for him. Though I found that to be remarkable, other than that, I think he’s a lovely person. And yet he’s not paid me a visit at the cupcake shop yet. Everyone at the vicinity comes here running nowadays. Which is why I find it weird that he’s managed to resist the lure of my shop until now.

  Come to think of it, why am I thinking about my neighbor?

  When I come back at Heather with her pumpkin spiced latte, I place the mug above the counter, which she grabs hold of immediately, and sniffs inside the cup with a smile of delight on her face.

  “Mhhm, this is incredible,” she says, awe-struck. It’s just the same with her every time there’s a PPL cup in her hands.

  “I was at the precinct this morning,” I keep her updated with the recent news. “I don’t know whether that’s good or not, but I didn’t save anything from him. I told the detective everything I’ve come upon as of late, together with my own personal impressions. There’s just something about my recent visit at Mahoney’s that struck me as quaint.” I remember the last time I was in this position, when I had to keep some details from the detective. I did that to protect Braiden, though I don’t feel like there’s somebody that I have to protect in this situation. And by the way, I’m just so in the dark as everyone else in all this.

  “What’s worse than getting involved into a murder mystery once? Doing it twice. I don’t even know why you’re getting stuck into solving it.” She rolls her eyes and I know we doesn’t share the same passion about solving mysteries together.

  As for me, I cannot stop until I get to the bottom of this. Everything about it seems eccentric, and I have to realize who is the one who did it and why.

  “This is scrumptious,” she chortles emphatically, drinking the last of her drink and placing the cup above the counter afterward. “I have to get back to work now. We’ll catch up later,” Heather winks at me.

  “Sure,” I say, disinterestedly, smiling, and focusing on work.

  Customers come and go into the shop, and I do my best to cater to their cupcake wishes, and even though I should be happy that everything is going so swell into my life, somehow it feels like I’m stuck into something that prevents me from taking delight into the little pleasures life has to offer. I don’t know why this happens, and I don’t know whether it is this mystery alone that is getting me so caught up, but I know for certain that I have to do something more for myself, I have to find a way how to bring myself from this vortex of perplexity and into the mundane rendering of the world.

  The next customer who shows up into the shop gets me a little dizzy. And I don’t know why a customer should have that effect upon me and why Gideon has been on my mind for quite so long now, but I feel like I’m fumbling when I’m accentuating his name.

  “Hey, Ainsley,” he responds to my fumbling, looking around the interior. “Quite the snugly cupcake shop you’ve got here,” he points out, delighted.

  “Oh, thanks,” I manage to say, gawking at him, and finding his presence in the shop a little surprising. I don’t know why, but imperceptibly I’ve been expecting his visit for a while now, and to see that he’s actually here gets me so fuzzy.

  “I’ve been meaning so drop by earlier, though something popped up and I got involved with recent work papers that needed my attention. But…I’m here now,” his voice grows milder.

  “You are,” I say foolishly. What is wrong with me? Why am I acting like a silly, star-struck girl?

  “I had a few people coming in at my house earlier, and let’s say that the yard next door didn’t go unnoticed. You’ve got the best blandishments from my partners.”

  “Oh, glad to hear,” I chortle lightly, acting the same way as I did before. “So, what can I get started for you?”

  “Hmm,” he ponders in a sprawling, unmitigated gawk around the shop. “Let’s see.” He squints at the big back template above my head displaying all the sorts of drinks and snacks that I offer at the shop. “How about the lemon cupcake and the pumpkin spiced latte that everyone is talking about right now?”

  “Those are nice choices.” I congratulate him, and get into disposing of his order.

  I didn’t know that the visit of a particular guy at the shop would get me so perplexed, mesmerized and awe-struck altogether. But here I am, trying to realize what this all means. Maybe it’s his good looks or nice comportments that is causing all this, but it’s not like he’s the first pretty guy to visit my shop. So my first hypothesis goes down. And probably I’m falling short of guesses for the moment, but I’m all encumbered into preparing the nicest latte for him, as if he’s some kind of gourmet prodigy that is having me under scrutiny, soon to give his evaluation to me.

  When I get back at him with his order, I place the cup and the muffin above the counter, with a smile on my face, looking at him taking stock of my every move. I’m feeling kind of…scrutinized. And it’s a mix of feeling uncomfortable, flattered and fawned all at once.

  “I’m not going to lie, coming here, I had my suspicions in stock. Your cupcakes are all the marbles in town, bearing the strangest overvaluation. But trust me when I say, they didn’t fail to deliver.” He takes another bite from the cupcake, which he seems to enjoy so much.

  “Oh, that’s so nice of you,” I feel like I’m blushing a little. It’s not uncommon for people to give me compliments about my cupcakes, but for whatever reason Gideon is making me uncomfortable in a good way.

  Once he finishes the cupcake, he grabs hold of the cup and gets up from his chair, while I’m watching him.

  “I just stopped by because I felt like I had to, though I’ve got work that I need to get to, so…another time?” he asks, so nicely.

  “Of course,” I accept, refusing to take his money that he’s giving me for his order.

  Once he realizes he’s got no option but to get his money back, I’m watching him with an imperceptible smile on my face as he’s leaving the shop, with his hips swaying from side to side on his jeans.

  I frown at myself as soon as the door shuts down with a crack.

  Why was I paying attention to that, anyway?

  I’ve grabbed another cup of tea, while taking stock of all the ornaments and pumpkins in my yard. You could feel the harvest vibe here on its full glory and I couldn’t be prouder.

  It’s freezing, and it’s kind of understandable with harvest settling in, but yet I am here enjoying the nice decorations that are inundating my yard.

  Deep down, part of my believes that the decorations are not the only reason why I’m standing here, seated on the patio chair, with Coral lingering amidst my feet, while warming my chin with the hot steam coming from the mug that is the only external source of warmness out of here.

  I just couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hips wiggled on his way out of the shop, and I’m not even the person to witness that in the first place. I just don’t take notice of such things in other people, so I don’t understand why I did in him.

  I’m waiting, and waiting, hoping for him to come out, but no result. All the lights to his house are unlit, at least that’s all I can see from the display that the windows to his house put emphasis to. Maybe he’s not even inside, after all. Which is strange, because it’s the middle of the night, and I’m standing here like a stalker waiting for him to make an appearance.

  Oh, my God. I can’t even fathom to realize how weird this sounds, or what kind of representation it gives me. But at least, no one knows of such fact other than me.

  And my previous realization comes to mind. Come to think of it, I really am like star-struck. Waiting for the wished-for object of my admiration to come
in sight.

  Oh, God. I’ve never felt star-struck before, but I’m doing it now. And to think that Gideon is not even famous to begin with.

  I guess it doesn’t have anything to do with fame. You just get obsessed to some alluringly pretty person and you cannot help yourself.

  Obsessed, I say? Augh, let’s just not get ahead of ourselves. He just came in town. And, so what if he’s so beautiful, he’ll take all your words away when you look at him? I just happened to meet him and that’s all. Let’s not just jump into conclusions just yet.

  I only move out of the patio chair and into the house when my mug is empty and I feel desperately enough like he’s not going to show up anytime soon. And what’s with this need of seeing him anyway?

  With a worn off complexion, I maunder back into the house with Coral chasing after me, step by step, meowing on his way in.

  Chapter Eight

  I’m on the haberdashery store since I ran out of the particular red papers that I use in my shop to put underneath the cups. I’m a regular here, since Mr. Tennant has a lot of things here that I use at my cupcake shop.

  It’s a cozy shop where you can find just about anything that strikes your fancy. And usually it’s empty, expect for a few latent customers waddling around looking for their wished-for items. But quaintly, today there’s a huge line in the front and I’m waiting with a huge stack of orange papers in hand (I chose orange for a cozier, harvest vibe; and this is something that I do only in October, all the other months, I use red paper) for my turn.

  There are four people ahead of me on the line, and I’m scoffing, waiting impatiently to purchase the items. Obviously, having lived in a small town for the most part of my life, I’m kind of used to things being done rapidly, and holdup is an unusual term in my life.

  Looking around the shop aimlessly just to kill the time, I realize that I haven’t been attentive to the person amidst the crowd. I recognize the guy who is waiting on the line behind the first guy at the front. When his turn is up, I wait for him to make his payment, and once he gathers his items in a bag, I turn around, calling for his attention, preventing him from leaving the shop.

  “Jaylon,” I call out, and he turns around a little bit scared. I guess what I heard about him being probably, mentally instable is true. “Hey,” I approach, leaving the line, while other customers take my place. Although I don’t approve of that, I have to attend to this particular event on my itinerary. I’ve been meaning to talk to him again, but since we’re not really friends, with me having no contacts of him whatsoever, and my harvest decorations being through with, I didn’t really have a chance to talk to him. And I couldn’t get back to the pumpkin shop without any particular reason, since after what happened I don’t think that I’d be ever so welcomed there.

  “I told you I don’t want to talk to you.” Wow, nothing’s changed since last time.

  “I know, but I’m not here to do anything bad to you. I just wanted some answers. Simple ones. And I think you’re just the person to help me with that.”

  “I don’t want to help you with anything. I don’t want to have anything to do with you!” he emphasizes and it’s loud enough for the people nearest to us to turn their heads and take a peak.

  “Jaylon, why are you so afraid of me? I don’t think that I did something wrong to you. On the contrary, I think it is you who have some explaining to do. It’s, like, impossible to have arranged a vine composition all by yourself and know nothing about a man encrusted underneath it.”

  “It is none of your business. I don’t have to say anything to you!” he keeps repeating. And honestly, I don’t know whether there is any way that he can be tamed.

  “Just so you know, I gave my statement to the detective last day, and I didn’t save them on any of the details. Your behavior included. If you don’t want to talk to me. That’s fine. But don’t think for a second that you won’t to the detective.”

  He looks at me threateningly and a bit scared and hits the road.

  I realize that I’ve gathered a lot of attention to myself, and it is nothing but awkward.

  Once he leaves, I get back to the line that has crowded up by now. I have to wait now longer, because I gave my spot away. I’m a little surprised to find that there’s nobody else at the line behind me, and people in front of the line are moving rapidly, making it more convenient for me. It doesn’t take long when I’m at the front. Having put myself in the middle of a little fuss at the shop, I used the time to bring myself into a more dispensable state.

  “How is everything going, Ainsley?” Mr. Tennant asks as soon as I’m in front of him with my orange shop papers.

  “Actually, it is going great. Thanks for asking,” I say with a smile on my face.

  “I’m asking about your earlier inconvenience with one of the customers. I’m sorry to chime in, but I couldn’t help but overhear your previous discussion with Jaylon.”

  “You know him?” I ask, shocked, interest suddenly aroused.

  “Yeah, he’s a regular. He always comes browsing at the store.” Mr. Tennant adds, eyeing me endearingly. He’s very amicable, which is why I never thought about shopping at some other haberdashery ever since I came back in town.

  “I don’t know, but he seems weird to me. I know it’s not a nice thing to say, but every time I try to talk to him, he starts howling as if I’m attacking him or something. I heard he’s mentally unstable, I don’t know whether this is more than just a rumor, though for sure, he doesn’t do much to prove me different.”

  “Oh, I feel you. He’s a customer and I respect him as I do everybody else who comes here shopping, though I got to say that his shopping choices are not, say, typical. He came one day looking for mallets and racquets and I thought that he was a spot guy, even though he didn’t look like one, but I was like, whatever. I really do not like to interfere into customer’s shopping choices. I think it’s against the habitual shop ethics. But he came another day looking for more of the same items, and I tried to convince myself that maybe the first ones staved in or something. But after that, he’s been frequenting the store now and then purchasing the same exact items. I tried to ask him once about why he needed these many mallets and racquets, but he shut me off by telling that it was not my job to discus with customers about their buying choices. I’ve been trying to turn the scale every time he comes in. After all, he’s a customer. Whatever he does with his bought items is his choice and no one else’s but his.”

  “I knew it,” I say with a triumphant look. “Something seemed off about him. But,” I change my tone from jubilant to mildly inquisitive, “why mallets? And most especially, why rackets? He sure looks like no sportsman.”

  “Anyway, just try not to get involved into whatever it is that he’s up to. He might be dangerous. Sure, he doesn’t look like it. But you never know.”

  Now that he mentioned it, I put the pieces together. Why would he need so many mallets unless he was a professional killer? What if he killed Mr. Mahoney after all? We might be coming across the main suspect. All the facts point to him. The vine compilation, the strange behavior, the weird shopping choices.

  If he isn’t a mentally disturbed killer, then I don’t know whatever this all is.

  I pay for my orange shop papers, and I get a special discount for being a regular, which I respond to with a smile.

  And then I get out of the shop.

  “How is your pretty boyfriend?” I ask Kierra, who’s made herself comfortable on the chair on my shop, savoring her cupcake, and paying me compliments about it.

  “Oh, he’s just the sweetest.” She says in delight and she seems awe-struck. Oh, my God. I just remembered about the last night stalking-gone-wrong. “He posted this picture of us together online and now everyone at school knows we’re dating. It’s a good thing to keep the girls from going after him. Though I don’t think that they really, fully get the hint, or whether they really care for that.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he is so into you too. You
can just tell when you look at him looking at you.” I tell her, and I really feel like that.

  “Oh, thanks. You know, I’ve never felt this…happy.” She says jubilantly, and her upbeat enthuses me for whatever reason. “And it seems like after all, it might just be some silly, inessential high school crush, but the attention that he gives me is everything.”

  I know just the feeling. “I’m happy for you.” I wish I got the same attention from Braiden. Though this never happened.

  It’d be a lie to say that I don’t feel just a smidge covetous about her relationship with Tyson. I recon they’re the prettiest couple in school that everybody envies, and they get all the attention from literally everyone. It’s just impossible to say that you don’t wish for a moment to have what they do or be like them. I guess if Heather were here she’d be way more wishful than me (it is her signature reaction).

  “I heard you got into a fight today,” Kierra switches the topic completely.

  “Oh, yeah?” Guess the news spreads so fast around town. “How so?”

  “Oh, you know how the tea renders in the town. Everyone is talking about it. They’re saying you attacked some guy at Mr. Tennant’s haberdashery store.”

  “Is that for real?” I cannot believe how manipulative people can be. I did nothing of this kind. And I don’t understand where they got these ideas. Sure, Jaylon made it look like I was attacking him, though you could clearly witness that I was keeping the distance and was not harassing him in any way. But I guess, they always like to overdraw the truth. It gives them some sort of satisfaction that I cannot explain.

  “Mm-hmm,” she nods a couple of times. “I knew it couldn’t be true. That didn’t sound like you at all. But people take delight in magnifying the facts as if it’d give their lives a meaning.”

  “In some kind of way, it does.” I mock, looking somewhere undecided in the air.

  “What really happened?” she enquires.