Overdue for Murder (Pecan Bayou)

by Trent, Teresa

  I examined her idea of "creative cooking." Instead of making a cake, she had chosen a Japanese theme with a rock fountain that trickled running water. There were sushi rolls planted around the fountain to resemble the greenery of the peaceful scene. It was so darn tasteful. The only problem was that the constant sound of running water was driving me crazy. I had already been to the bathroom twice. When Vanessa spied my little crocodile cake in the Easter grass she put her hand over her mouth as if it might be a bit of roadkill I had frosted.

  "What is that?" she asked, looking at me as if I had an unsightly blemish that had just appeared on my chin.

  "Oh," I said, looking down at the cake. "A crocodile."

  "Really?" she asked, doubting my credibility. Just as I was about to explain to her what I thought of her sushi fountain, Martha Hoffman walked up to our tables, wearing an oversized sweatshirt that read, "So many books, so little time."

  "Vanessa, darling, I just love what you've done showcasing the very essence of Japanese cuisine." Martha beamed. She picked up a copy of Girl Meets Fifth Avenue and started paging through it.

  "You know I'll have to have a signed copy of your book for the library. The people of Pecan Bayou will be so surprised to know we have such a talented writer in our midst," she aid.

  "I'll be glad to sign one for you right now, Martha." Vanessa reached for her rust-colored leather bag behind the table and took out a pen. "Do you want me to sign it with my real name or my pen name, Vanessa Scarlett?"

  "Oh, well, you had better use your pen name. Not everyone knows you personally, as I do." She said it as if she belonged to some elite private club. I had this strange feeling that if Vanessa Markham wasn't trying to get a copy of her book in the library, she wouldn't give Martha Hoffman the time of day. Martha didn't see that, though. The book nerd had finally been accepted at the cheerleader's lunch table. As Vanessa signed her book with a flourish, Martha's eyes drifted to my table and appraised my little crocodile cake. A weak smile my way was all she could muster. She didn't seem to want a copy of my book for her precious stacks.

  Vanessa closed the book and handed it to Martha. "Now you just keep your money. My gift to you." Martha held the book tightly and puffed out like a little peacock showing off its plumage. It was all I could take, and besides, the running water was getting to me again.

  "I'm heading off to the restroom. Will you watch my table?"

  "Again?" Vanessa pouted. "If you must, but don't be gone too long."

  I escaped from my post and walked down the mall toward the bathroom. When I came out, I strolled over to Pattie's booth. PattieCake's was in full glory with its pink-striped bunting. Pattie had brought along a high school girl to help her with sales today, and I counted at least twelve trays of cupcakes behind them. They were, by far, the most attended-to table in the mall, with people lining up to purchase Pattie's luscious creations.

  Pattie pushed back a strand of hair as she pulled out a loaded tray and plucked out two pink cupcakes with wax paper. As if she could feel my eyes watching her, she glanced my way and upon recognizing me, rolled her eyes and smiled. Even here she was insanely busy. She looked at me as if to say, "Sorry, I'm at it again." Once Pattie filled her orders, she said something to her helper and then came around to the front of the table.

  "We decided at the last minute to pack up some cupcakes. Now I'm glad we did. How's traffic at your table?"

  "Uh, quiet. Forgot my cupcakes." As if to further humiliate my little green crocodile, on Pattie's table stood an amazing tower of cupcakes. There were six levels, complete with a full-sized layer cake on the top. Each cupcake was frosted with a light yellow frosting, and on their fronts was a delicately sculpted Texas bluebonnet. It was a work of sheer artistry.

  "Do you like it? I was up all last night finishing it."

  "It's incredible." I answered, feeling as if I had just walked into the Sistine Chapel and decided to look up.

  "How did your crocodile cake turn out? Did you get him to stick together?"

  "Yes, but he's nothing compared to this. I suppose it doesn't help that I am right next to Vanessa Markham and her sushi fountain."

  Pattie shook her head. "Really? A fountain of sushi? How very upscale of her."

  "Yeah, well all she really had to do was buy the little fountain, buy the sushi and arrange it all, and yet it is still getting a lot more respect than my little crocodile."

  "That's what Vanessa does best. She has an eye for putting things together. That's why she is a fashion writer," Pattie said consolingly.

  I thought about the truth of that statement. "That's true."

  "It kills me how some of us work so hard to create things and others just buy it and then take credit for it all," Pattie said. She glanced back at her booth and then back to me. "Come on, I want to see your cake and the tribute to rolled-up seaweed." We giggled and walked down the mall arm-in-arm. As we came near the Pecan Bayou Gazette tables, I saw Vanessa speaking to a man with jet-black hair wearing a very dark, very expensive suit. He didn't look like the kind of guy who would read Girl Meets Fifth Avenue or the fashion blog, but maybe he was gay or just interested in fashion. He reached out and put his hand around Vanessa's waist and pulled her close to him. He lowered his lips onto hers unaware of our presence. Okay, maybe he wasn’t gay – and definitely not her husband.

  "My, my. Look what we just walked in on," Pattie whispered. A clump of potted palms shielded them from sight for the rest of the mall walkers, but that only worked if you weren't walking up the ramp like we were. As we came closer, Vanessa glanced our way and pulled away from the dark man. He also turned to face us and was even more gorgeous from the front. He had eyes that were nearly black, and when he smiled he revealed white teeth that were accented by the color of his skin.

  "Well, I just wanted to tell you how much I loved your book," he said, although no one within ten feet believed him.

  "Thank you sir, it's always nice to meet a fan." Vanessa blushed and the stranger walked away.

  "Friend of yours?" asked Pattie. "Never saw him before in my life," Vanessa said, as if she were dismissing a waiter.

  A neat-looking woman with a pageboy haircut wearing a tan-and-black pantsuit came up to our two tables. This lady was obviously the official Creative Cooks Day judge. She held a clipboard and was busily writing as I scooted behind my table. Pattie waved at me and ran back to her table. The clipboard lady looked down at my little crocodile, who was now losing a gumdrop as the icing melted. She smiled like a polite person looking at an ugly baby.

  "How very cute, my dear. I just love his little swamp." She returned to writing on her clipboard, then looked up at the banner behind me and then over to my book. "Oh, I've read your column in the paper. We've used so many of your tips to save money here at the mall. We're all on a budget, you know." She picked up my book from the corner of the table. "We might need a copy of this for the mall office."

  Who knew? I had a fan, and it was the judge. Vanessa, who had been watching this entire interchange, cleared her throat loudly. It was probably hard for her to believe my sorry crocodile was getting this much time from the judge.

  The judge put down my book and met Vanessa's smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She turned back to me. "Put one aside for me, Betsy. I'll come back and pay for it later." She said, speaking my first name gingerly as if she had just read it off of the cover of my book.

  Vanessa went to the center of her table and started selling the sushi tower. Further down the mall I could see Pattie standing in front of her booth giving me a thumbs-up. "Take that Vanessa!"

  "Well, there she is!" Aunt Maggie tapped me on my shoulder. Trailing behind her were Zachary and Danny.

  "How did you do, Mom? Did you win?" Zach asked.

  Danny walked over to my crocodile cake and spoke gently to it. "Hello Mr. Crocodile. How are you today?"

  "Don't get too friendly with it Danny," I said. "Don't forget, he's dessert tonight." Danny chortled. "Okay, Betsy."


  Aunt Maggie nudged me. "How did you do?"

  "Pretty good I think, but walk down and look at Pattie's. Hers is beautiful."

  Both boys craned their necks to see down the mall past the potted palms. "Can we go look at the cupcakes, Mom?" It was only a few feet away, and I could keep an eye on them. "Sure." I said. Danny and Zachary ran down the brown tiled floor to Pattie's cupcake table.

  "Boy, that Pattie is always the businesswoman. I see she thought to bring cupcakes to sell. She's a smart one. It's amazing she doesn't have a man by now. She's pretty, successful, and she bakes."

  "She's running one of the most successful businesses in Pecan Bayou," I said. "Maybe she doesn't need a man to make her whole."

  "You're right. My mother taught me marriage was a career. You were raised differently. It's much better now." Aunt Maggie smiled. "The boys and I walked by the other five displays to check out your competition. There was somebody selling backyard swings who just put out a tray of store-bought cookies. There was Tom Schuller's wife from the Chamber of Commerce who put out a bowl of chili with some crackers, and then her sister-in-law is right next to her representing her husband's car lot with a pot of gumbo and some French bread. Both real nice, but not all that creative. Marcus Daycare has a cute little choo-choo train, but she made it all out of Suzy Qs, so she has about as much work in it as Mrs. Markham's tower of raw fish. All in all Betsy, yours isn't as bad as you may think. For presentation you get a C, but in creativity, you get a B-plus."

  I could see the boys had reached the cupcake display and that the judge was heading from Vanessa's table down the walkway to Pattie's.

  "Oh, and I forgot. Stanley is here with NUTV. His is pretty creative. His is a green cake with lines on it to look like a football field, and then he put out little plastic players and a tiny TV camera. His cake might give Pattie a run for her money, but only if the judge doesn't notice the grocery store bag in the trash. Stanley bought that cake and put the little football players on it."

  I glanced down the mall, and the boys seemed to be counting the cupcakes on Pattie's display. The judge was approaching Pattie as Danny leaned on the table to count the cupcakes on the top-most layer. Just as he put his full weight on the corner of the folding table, I noticed the leg beneath his hand starting to buckle. Within seconds the entire stack of cupcakes came down on top of Danny and Zachary, leaving them buried in a mishmash pile of cake and icing.

  Maggie and I raced down to Danny and Zach, who were struggling to get up from the mess on the floor. Zach slipped in the yellow-and-blue icing, further smearing it into the tiles. He tried to stand up again, balancing on wobbly legs.

  "What happened?" I asked. The entire crowd around Pattie's booth had shifted their focus to the icing-covered Danny and Zach. The judge was clucking her tongue and shaking her head as she put a big X over Pattie's page.

  "I'm so sorry," said the judge. "I needed to at least have had a look at your creation. I'll have to take you out of the competition."

  Pattie's face grew flushed as her mouth gaped open. She had by far the best entry in the contest, and now my family was responsible for destroying it.

  "Oh, Pattie. We're sorry," Aunt Maggie said. Zach and Danny were both near tears. Danny took Pattie's hand in his icing-covered grasp. "Miss PattieCake. We are real sorry. We didn't mean to hurt your cupcakes. I just put my hand on the table, that's all."

  I looked back at the upturned table. Three of the legs were locked into position, but one was slid back, leaving it unlocked.

  "Look at these table legs," I said, kneeling down. "All of the others are perfectly straight except for this one here. It seems this table leg wasn't locked into place. The first person to lean on the table would tip it over. Now maybe it just wasn't set up right, but if that was so, the cupcake tower would have collapsed when Pattie placed it on the table. Could it be that someone purposely slid the lock off, causing the table to collapse when any weight was put on it?"

  "Tsk, tsk," Vanessa had joined us. "You really should be more careful about locking those table legs into place, Pattie. What a terrible shame." She pursed her lips together. "What a shame." It struck me as just a bit rehearsed.

  "I guess that just leaves the rest of us in the competition. Betsy, you really should watch your child," Vanessa added.

  "Just what are you saying?" I asked.

  "These things do happen my dear, especially when children go unsupervised."

  There was a menacing quiet between the two of us that seemed to spread throughout the mall. The longer the silence lasted, the more I felt we were about to have a slap down. Had Vanessa jimmied with the leg of Pattie's table, making it an accident waiting to happen? If she did, what a perfect foil having my son and cousin at the table. Vanessa had seemed a little sneaky, but I couldn't believe she would do all that just to win a stupid mall contest.

  "You were over here earlier, Vanessa. Who's to say you didn't mess with the leg so that the first person who leaned on the table would capsize Pattie's cupcakes?"

  "Are you accusing me of sabotage? That would be pretty convenient for you, considering you and your family purposely took the best exhibit out of the competition."

  That was it – I was taking her down. I walked toward her.

  "Nevertheless," the judge broke the impending feeling of confrontation in the air. "I'm sure all these lovely people still want to buy up all of your cupcakes, Pattie. She turned to the people in line. "Everybody, can we have a round of applause for PattieCake's?" The crowd broke out into applause and a few cheers. Pattie turned to them and smiled, taking a little bow.

  "Tell you what," said Aunt Maggie. "I'll take the boys to go get washed up, and why don't you help your friend Pattie clean up?" I nodded and started loading the collapsed pieces of the cupcake tower into a big green rubber trashcan the mall custodian had pulled up for us.

  Vanessa came over to me. "I'll head back to our tables. I'm sure I must have some book customers by now."

  "I'm sure." I said.

  The mall judge moved down the walkway to the next exhibitor. Pattie heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. "I can't believe it. I've been punked."

  "Yes, you were, and I think we both know who did it."

  "That woman is evil," Pattie said, watching Vanessa slink down the mall in her clickety-clack heels.

  "She's so competitive. Evilly competitive, but competitive."

  "She's in my shop at least twice a week buying those German Chocolate cupcakes. That's it. She's cut off."

  We both laughed.

  It was only a few minutes later when the judge came over the mall's loudspeaker. The winner of the Creative Cooks contest was Vanessa Markham and her little Zen fountain of raw fish. She had to win at any cost, even if that cost was my friend Pattie.

  CHAPTER SIX

  On Tuesday, after our slippery fun at the mall over the weekend, I was working to put a few notes on index cards for my upcoming "Author Night at the Library." I didn't want to get up there and start babbling. Maybe I wasn't a "real" author, but I could certainly talk about my subject area. I had gathered some statistics about helpful hints and how many people use books like mine to get through their daily routines.

  I had also come up with some tips for the library, not because I felt like being particularly helpful, but because I wanted to irritate Martha Hoffman. Hmmm, their use of light was not very energy-efficient. I recalled looking for a book on the second floor of the library, where the temperature seemed to be several degrees hotter than the downstairs. Part of that had to do with the big picture windows, which we all loved. Nevertheless, a little tinting might be just the answer to lower the temperature – and the electric bills.