by Holly Plum
In the back of the shop was a modest kitchen where Joy Cooke was whisking egg whites and sugar by hand. She had a smear of cocoa on her cheek, flour dusted her apron, and flecks of confectioner's sugar made her dark hair look prematurely gray for a woman in her mid-thirties. A stand mixer sat motionless on the bench. Joy paused to crack another egg white into the bowl and stretched her wrist before resuming her ferocious whisking with all of her might. She was determined to beat the whites into a stiff meringue, or to at least work some of her stress out trying.
Joy had woken very early that day with a feeling that something was coming. It wasn't quite dread, but it was close. She couldn't shake it – she'd felt all day as though something was brewing, hovering over her; as though she had left sweet buns to rise somewhere and they were all going to fall flat if she didn't tend to them soon. But there was nothing she was meant to do. She had spent the day checking and double-checking everything she did, opening and closing every drawer, double counting the change she gave customers, and keeping track of everything she sold. She shook her head and sighed, quickening her whisking to an unbelievable speed. She had no idea what could be giving her such anxiety.
Sara Beth, Joy's assistant, stood in the doorway with a hand on her hip and the other holding a jumbo cup of iced tea. She was a Southern belle who had swanned into the bakery six months before and talked her way into a job. Though Sara Beth was charming enough that she could convince anyone to do anything, Joy had no regrets about having hired her. Sara Beth was the best assistant Joy could have hoped for. She was talkative, creative, and most of all – loyal.
“You know, ma'am,” Sara Beth took a sip of her tea and let the straw pop off her lips in a way that always meant I'm about to tell it like it is, “I believe there is a faster way to make meringue. One that won't give you arthritis.” Sara Beth took another sip and motioned with her head towards the neglected mixer in the corner.
Joy looked up and smiled, shaking her head. “You know what I always say, Sara Beth. Mama's recipes are –”
“Recipes for success,” they said in unison. Sara Beth rolled her eyes but laughed, which always made Joy smile. In the time she'd known her assistant, Sara Beth had brought a bright light into the bakery that was much needed.
Joy's mother, Patty, had started a home bakery when Joy was young. Joy's earliest memories were of helping squeeze oranges for her mother's signature yellow Florida cake with cream cheese and marmalade frosting. By the time Joy was ten years old, her mom had sold enough cakes, tarts and cookies to set up her own bake shop downtown. “The real deal,” Patty had called it as they'd stood together on the street, holding hands and watching the sign writer put the finishing touches on the cursive Patty Cakes Bake Shop sign.
The shop had become a raging success as soon as it had opened. Patty had joked that it was always hot in the kitchen because the door swung open every five seconds. Since Patty had unexpectedly passed away two years ago, the regulars had stayed loyal to the bakery even though Joy Cooke often had a hard time living up to her mother's name. Joy followed Patty's foolproof recipes down to the letter. Including a handwritten note her mother had jotted down when the bake shop had first opened. The note said to hand mix everything.
Joy sighed as she beat the eggs, wondering if she'd ever really live up to either part of her name – the Joy or the Cooke. Joy's bemoaning was cut short by the chime of the bell above the front door. She and Sara Beth looked at each other.
Sara Beth cocked her head to the side. “Could she really be that early?”
She could.
Crystal Stone pushed open the pink doors of Patty Cakes Bake Shop with all her might and felt immediately relieved by the energy in the room. Or maybe it was the cool blast of air conditioning. Crystal was a firm believer in karma, and reading messages from the universe. Whether it was cool vibes or cool air conditioning, Crystal was sure she was in the right place. Her necklaces and bracelets jingled as she walked into the shop. Sara Beth popped out from the kitchen.
“I'm early," Crystal announced. "I know I'm such a pain, but I was meditating this morning like I always do and I have a very strong feeling that I need to re-try these cakes immediately. That's why I'm early.”
Sara Beth stood smiling for a moment to process Crystal's request.
“Of course, ma'am. Come on in. We've set up a table for you.” Luckily, Sara Beth had not left her southern hospitality in Mississippi when she'd moved to Florida.
She led Crystal to the bay window and the largest table in the shop, which Joy had decorated with white linen and lilies in preparation for the cake tasting.
“Would you like to wait for your fiancé here while we get the new samples ready?” Sara Beth asked.
Crystal inhaled as she sat, and put a hand to her heart. “No, Lucas won't be joining me.”
“Oh, my. Is everything alright?”
Crystal reached out and touched Sara Beth's hand. Her engagement ring had spun around on her finger, and the gigantic amethyst stone dug into Sara Beth's palm. “We're right as rain, darling. He's working late and couldn't make it today. I'm always early, and he's always late. That's how it seems to go with us. I'm up at dawn to teach yoga, and he's out at night with clients.”
"So sorry to hear that." Sara Beth tutted sympathetically and carefully pulled her hand back. She lay a cloth napkin on Crystal's lap.
“Stress is a manageable thing, Sara Beth,” Crystal inhaled and exhaled loudly, “You just have to breathe through it. Breathe with me, Sara Beth.”
Joy had raced to the bathroom to make herself look more presentable, leaving her egg whites to deflate into a gloopy mess. She joined Sara Beth looking a little rough around the edges with her tightly curled hair never behaving quite the way she wished it would.
“Hi there, Crystal," Joy greeted her client. "It's good to see you again."
It wasn't a pleasure. This was the fourth time Crystal had changed her mind about the cake she wanted for her wedding, and her wedding date was right around the corner. Joy needed Crystal to decide on a flavor today and stick to it if she was going to prepare the cake in time.
“Joy, what a joy you are.” Crystal stood to kiss Joy on each cheek.
“Is Lucas on his way?” Joy asked.
“No, but it's probably better that way. He's so stressed about the wedding that he's oozing with negative vibes at the moment. We don't want those around my wedding cake.” Crystal took a deep breath.
All Joy knew about Crystal's fiancé Lucas was that he'd liked the last four cakes just fine. She smiled politely as Sara Beth presented the samples for Crystal to taste.
The first cake sample was a red velvet cake. The flavor that Crystal had decided was the one she wanted last week. Normally, the red color of the cake appeared when traditional cocoa, vinegar, and buttermilk reacted. But Crystal's dietary requirements meant that no dairy could be used in the cake, leaving Joy to create the red color by using beet puree. Joy was particularly proud of her substitution, having licked the bowl clean herself.
“It's just ... my intuition says this isn't perfect,” Crystal sighed, placing her fork down after a small bite.
“Alright, on to the next.” Sara Beth quickly passed Crystal a slice of lemon poppy seed cake. It was spongy, light, and delicate. Crystal took a bite and closed her eyes as the cake melted in her mouth. It was the perfect of amount of tartness mixed with the perfect amount of sweetness. But it was too spongey for Crystal's taste.
Next, there was a vanilla cake with salted caramel. The saltiness balanced perfectly with the sweet, sticky caramel, but Crystal insisted the salt was too beachy. Since the wedding was at an elegant beachside manor, she didn't want her guests thinking they were eating sand. Joy tried not to take offense.
The macadamia and coconut cake was almost a hit before Crystal remembered that Lucas was allergic to macadamia nuts.
It was during the tasting of the orange pistachio cake that Crystal looked up at the framed photograph of Joy's mo
m above the cash register. She stopped chewing and swallowed deeply, her eyes on the portrait.
“This woman.” Crystal let out a long sigh as if it were her personal duty to deliver some kind of message from the other side. “She has passed on, am I right?”
Joy nodded, her hand placed on her heart. She'd seen psychics on television but had never visited one before. Joy preferred to keep her head out of the clouds. But her pulse raced at the idea that her mom might be trying to send her a message. Maybe that's why she had been feeling different all day.
“I'm in the process of developing my psychic gifts," Crystal continued. "Let me see.” Before Joy had a chance to reply, Crystal held up her hand and began. “The woman in the photo was your ... um ... I'm getting something.”
Crystal closed her eyes, hummed in a high-pitched tune, and made a face like she'd just eaten a lemon tart that was a little too sour.
Sara Beth cleared her throat.
“She's your ... Oh! Oh, I see it. She's your long lost aunt twice removed?” Crystal opened one eye and looked at Joy.
“That's my mother," Joy answered. "Her name was Patty. She opened this shop. But thank you for trying.”
“Hmm.” Crystal slouched in her chair and pouted at the portrait. “That's odd. You would think she'd at least want to talk to me about the cakes I'm trying.”
"I'm not sure I understand." Joy did her best to smile politely.
“My mother has passed on too," Crystal went on. "Though she never left me anything quite as magnificent as this shop. Just left me with Dad, who also passed away, leaving me with a step mother who is a real shrew. Pardon my language, but my step-mother would love it if I ordered this awful orange pistachio cake for the wedding. No offense.”
“Try the chocolate, ma'am.” Sara Beth shoved the next plate under Crystal's nose before she could say anything else.
“Well, look at that.” Crystal's full attention was suddenly on the cake. “Beautiful. Simply beautiful.” And beautiful it was. A slice of Joy's specialty – double dark chocolate. The cake was so dark that light couldn't escape from it. Crystal easily sunk her fork into the sample, the moist frosting melting in her mouth.
"Thank the cosmos,” Crystal exclaimed. The sweetness of the frosting touched her tongue first, followed by the slightest hint of bitterness from the dark chocolate, rounded out by a pinch of Joy's secret spice blend – cinnamon, cardamom, vanilla and a pinch from the jar in the kitchen labeled Patty's Secret Spice. Even Joy had no idea what was in there, but it was included in every chocolate recipe and brought the flavors together like magic.
"I'm glad you like it," Joy commented.
“This is the one,” Crystal mumbled through a mouthful. “It's perfect.” She tapped her feet excitedly as she ate the entire piece.
“So we have a winner?” Sara Beth asked, hopefully.
“Have you made your decision?” Joy asked, skeptically.
“I certainly have," Crystal answered. "I want chocolate. All chocolate. But I simply can't wait to taste that chocolate again until I'm married. Do you have a piece I can take home for my darling Lucas? He's going to die when he tastes this.”
“Sorry,” Sara Beth chimed in. "The chocolate cake is our best seller. We're out at the moment."
Crystal huffed, disappointed. “I suppose I could pick up something chocolatey on my way home. What's the name of that other bakery across town? The Sugar Room?”
Joy took a sharp inhale at the mention of her dastardly competition, ready to launch into a tirade about underhanded marketing tactics and unethical baking tricks.
“But our chocolate tart is truly to die for.” Sara Beth pushed past Joy and presented a tart to Crystal. “It's the same chocolate taste as the cake, and it's dairy-free. We made lots of our dairy-free desserts today because we knew you were coming. The Sugar Room doesn't make anything dairy-free.”
The tart shined with perfectly tempered chocolate, the serene surface only broken where it was studded with delicate chocolate bark. The crust was golden brown, and Crystal swallowed in anticipation of cutting into it.
“Yum.” Crystal sighed in adoration. Her eyes glazed over as though she were suddenly hypnotized. “It's so dark. One bite and you could just melt into nothingness.”
Sara Beth caught Joy's eye behind Crystal's back and circled her finger around her ear, insinuating that Crystal was a little crazy. Joy couldn't help smirking. The closer she got to her wedding day, the more Crystal's mood could be turned on and off like a light switch.
Suddenly the clanging of Crystal's jewelry echoed through the shop as she clapped her hands together and bounced joyously in her seat. “Lucas will love it. I'll take it!”
“Fantastic.” Sara Beth joined in the rejoicing. “A sweetie for your sweetie.”
“A little taste of our wedding for my groom to be,” Crystal said. "I love that idea."
Sara Beth boxed up the tart while Joy took Crystal's down payment for the wedding cake. Still rattled by the mention of The Sugar Room, and happy to have finally secured a deposit, Joy gave Crystal the tart for free.
Joy and Sara Beth stood shoulder to shoulder and bid farewell to the bride-to-be, watching Crystal load the tart into her bicycle basket.
Joy mumbled, “Is the tart going to survive?”
“Is the marriage going survive?” Sara Beth snorted.
* * *
Sara Beth was closing up the bake shop and stacking the chairs as the sunset painted the coastal town cupcake pink. Joy was recounting the perfectly balanced cash register for the fourth time when the bell above the front door chimed.
“Hello,” a well-dressed man entered, dabbing sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.
“Hi there, sir. We're closing for the day, but I can pack you up something to-go.” Joy eyed the limited selection of baked goods.
The man walked slowly to the counter, looking around the whole shop. He paused before spotting the glass case and moved over to inspect it.
“This is your selection?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.” Joy frowned, unsure what to make of him. She was used to the pleasant conversation from most of her customers.
“What's this?” the man motioned to something behind the glass.
Sara Beth looked over his shoulder and replied cheerfully, “That's a mini pineapple cheesecake. It's one of my favorites.”
“Oh?” The man looked at Sara Beth's winning smile and softened a little. “Do you have any chocolate tarts leftover?”
“I'm afraid we sold the last one today. But the chocolate babka is-” Sara Beth was cut off.
“Did you sell a chocolate tart to a …,” the man fished a hand into his pocket and retrieved his notepad. “… a Mr. Tony Florentine?”
“Not that I recall," Joy answered. "All the tarts we sold to today were to locals. People I know personally. I don't know anyone named Tony.”
“Are you the owner of this establishment miss …”
“Joy Cooke.” Joy's heart began to race. "And yes, I own this shop. What can I do for you?" Joy balled her hands into lose fists, waiting for a bout of bad news. Surely this man was a health inspector who had been given a false tip by The Sugar Room. Joy was certain the owner, Maple McWayne, would stop at nothing to put her out of business.
“I'm Detective Sugar, and I need to ask you a few questions." The man looked around again. "May I take a look at your kitchen?”
The detective helped himself. He opened and shut drawers and cabinets, and he even sniffed multiple bags of flour. He asked questions about the bake shop's cleaning routines, chemicals kept on the property, and who else had access to the kitchen. Joy answered his questions shakily but truthfully, while Sara Beth stood in the doorway nervously sipping sweet tea. Detective Sugar's gaze landed on the large ceramic canister of Patty's Secret Spice.
“What's this?” he picked up the canister and immediately shook it.
Joy grabbed it from him and held it close to her chest. She had had just about en
ough. “What is this about, detective?”
“Ma'am,” he sighed, getting out his handkerchief and wiping his hands clean. “I'm sorry for my intrusion, but this is rather a difficult situation. I'm investigating a possible homicide. A man has died after eating a single slice of a chocolate tart from this establishment.”
Sara Beth gasped, “Crystal? Please, don't say it was a woman named Crystal Stone.”
“No," the detective responded. " I said a man has died.”
Sara Beth gasped, “Lucas? Please don't say it was a man named Lucas.”
“It was a man named Tony Florentine," he replied. "Are you certain neither of you know him?"
“I'm sorry, but I don't,” Joy replied, still holding her mother's blend of spices close to her heart. “I can check the books, but I don't think it would help you much.”
Joy looked to Sara Beth, who shook her head and shrugged.
“I'd appreciate any records you have, Joy.” Detective Sugar crossed his arms. “I'm not saying you're a prime suspect, but I'm afraid your chocolate tart is guilty. I'll need samples of every ingredient in the shop, and I'll need to take this.” He reached his hand out for Patty's secret blend of spices. "Don't worry. You'll get it back."
"I guess our chocolate tart really is to die for," Sara Beth muttered.
CONTINUE READING …
BOOKS BY HOLLY PLUM
PATTY CAKES BAKE SHOP COZY MYSTERIES
Until Death Do Us Tart
For Butter Or For Worse
Something Bakes and Something Blue
Frying The Knot
Wedding Bells and a Body
Saying Pie Do
MEXICAN CAFÉ COZY MYSTERIES
Murder Con Carne
Killer Salsa
Smothered In Lies
Rice, Beans, and Revenge
Crimes and Chimichangas
Soft Taco Murder