1 Nothing Bundt Murder

by Leigh Selfman

  NOTHING BUNDT MURDER

  by

  Leigh Selfman

  Copyright 2014 by Leigh Selfman

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing by the publisher, except by reviewers or catalogues not limited to online for purpose of promotion.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Oh why oh why did I take this job? If I wanted to eat a lot of cake I should have just bought it, like everyone else does.

  But no, I had to get a job at a bakery. And now I was about to be killed because of it.

  I was stuck hiding behind a rack full of empty baking trays, my only weapon a pastry bag full of butter cream frosting. Maybe I should squirt him in the eyes and blind him. Or in the mouth -- kill him with a sugar overdose.

  Iced by icing. Could work.

  Nah. Who was I kidding? If an icing overdose were possible, I’d already be dead.

  I glanced at the counter above my head, looking for the big sharp knife that was usually nearby.

  Nothing.

  I squirted the butter cream into my mouth. At least I’d go, doing what I loved. Eating rich creamy frosting.

  The footsteps came closer. His gloved hands were holding a sharp shiny blade. Ah. So that’s where that big knife went.

  I had to do something. It was now or never. I took another squirt of butter cream for courage. And then…I chickened out.

  Oh why oh why did I ever take this job? I should have known a dream job at my favorite bakery was going to lead to trouble….

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Rosie, can you hand me the butter cream pastry bag,” Babette said, without looking up from her work.

  “Sure,” I replied. I found the bag full of delicious creamy frosting and handed it to Babette, the owner and baker extraordinaire of the Bundt Baby bakery. I watched, mesmerized, as without missing a beat she quickly and expertly began frosting the tray of 50 mini Bundt cakes that were cooling on the rack. At the top of each she put a little flourish, the signature of her store: Bundt Baby.

  She was about to hand me the bag and let me try, when we heard the tinkling of the front door chimes, indicating the arrival of a customer.

  “Saved by the bell,” I said, handing her back the bag and straightening my apron.

  She smiled and shook her head, still focused on her work.

  As I picked up the tray of our samples-of-the-day (white chocolate chip with nutmeg frosting) I marveled again at how good-humored and calm Babette was, considering all the problems that were currently plaguing her life.

  “Would you like a sample of our Bundt of the day?” I said with a smile as I walked through the door that separated the kitchen from the front of store. And there, standing amid the lovely pale salmon and cream striped silk wallpaper, was Babette’s problem number one: her husband, Doug, dressed as preppily as ever and scowling up a storm.

  “Is she here?” he grunted. “Wait, lemme guess, of course she’s here. She’s always here. Because she cares more about this store than about our marriage. She certainly pays more attention to it.”

  “Uh...,” I said, having no idea how to respond to that. “I’ll go get her.” I quickly put the tray of samples down on the counter and reached for the door to the kitchen, but before I could turn the knob, Babette entered, an impassive expression on her face.

  “Doug,” she said, her pale, almost translucent skin growing blotchy, a clear sign of the emotion that lay behind her calm exterior. “I know you’re not here for the cake.”

  “Nah, I just came from a meeting with the guy from Baron Real Estate, and he’s offering a lot of money for this property. So we’re going to take the deal.”

  I could see the color rising to Babette’s cheeks. “You can’t,” she said. She frowned and looked down, nervously winding the elegant gold watch on her right wrist. “This store belongs to both of us.”

  “True and unless you can buy me out or want protracted legal battle, we’re moving the franchise, babe. You can always relocate.”

  Babette stared at him, speechless. She started walking back to the kitchen but then she stopped and turned around. She locked eyes with Doug. “I will never sell this store.”

  She was clearly trying to appear calm, but the red blotches on her cheeks and neck betrayed the emotion behind her words. She reached a shaky hand up and pushed a nonexistent strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear.

  Doug shook his head and walked towards the door. Then he stopped, enraged. “You know, you don’t care about us or our marriage. All you care about is this store. Your cakes…” He shook his head and came back to the display cake. “Actually,” he said. “You know, I think I would like a sample.”

  He reached his hand up but instead of reaching for the tray of samples, his hand hovered near the two-tiered red velvet Bundt cake that was sitting on the counter, waiting to be boxed up. I looked at Babette who seemed to be holding her breath. Then, in an instant, he reached in and pulled out a huge chunk of the dark red cake that Babette had created especially for a birthday party that evening.

  “I like red velvet better,” Doug said, smirking as he nibbled the cake from his hands. “Yum.”

  He looked Babette in the eyes as he licked a bit of cream cheese frosting off his fingers, then he let the rest of the cake fall to the salmon and cream colored checked floor.

  “Oops, someone better clean that up. We don’t want a lawsuit, do we?" he said with a wink. Then he headed out.

  I turned to Babette, shocked and speechless. I had no idea how she’d respond to that. Would she run after him screaming? Would she break into tears of rage and frustration?

  No. Instead, she stood staring at her ruined cake, then she shook her head and gave me a sad smile. “I guess I better get started on another red velvet Grande,” she said, heading toward the kitchen. “We don’t want that birthday party to be cakeless.”

  I hurried to grab the mop and clean the floor before the lunch hour rush started.

  I felt a little bad that I’d witnessed that scene in the store but what could I do? It all happened so fast and…honestly…I hadn’t been able to look away. It was so intense.

  As I mopped, I wondered if I should bring it up to Babette. But then I worried that might be intruding on her personal space so maybe I shouldn’t. Luckily, as I was putting the mop away, the store got so busy that I didn’t have to decide. We were so swamped that I didn’t have a quiet moment to talk to her, even if I wanted to.

  The Friday afternoon rush finally wound down and the store emptied out. I bent down to clear the display case of the few remaining mini baby Bundt cakes so I could clean it before I left. Finally. The day was ending. All I had to do was to wait five more minutes for the cuckoo clock in back to start chirping, then I could lock the front door and my day would officially be done.

  Which is when I heard the front door chimes tinkle again.

  I took a deep breath. “Would you like to sample our Bundt of the day?” I asked, standing up and motioning to the tray on the counter in front of me.

  “Sure,” a low masculine voice said. A big, smooth hand reached out to take a sample and I looked up at its owner. Our eyes met.

  I froze.

  If tall dark and handsome had a photo next to it in the dictionary it would be this guy. High cheekbones, dazzling green eyes surrounded by long dark lashes that were almost feminine. A half smile on his lips softened his hard, square jaw. He stared at me, seemingly amused.

/>   I touched my face automatically. Had I somehow gotten some frosting on it or something? I bent down to look in the metal reflection on the edge of the bakery case. Nothing there. I stood back up, trying to regain my composure.

  “Can I help you?”

  I couldn’t look into his eyes without feeling an uncomfortable flutter in my stomach so I stared at his white teeth instead.

  “A dozen mini Bundts,” he said, in an upper crust-sounding British accent. “You pick the flavors.”

  “Me?”

  “They’re a gift. “

  “Oh? Okay.” I wondered if they were for his wife and glanced over at his ringless, left hand. “What if I just give you a basic assortment?"

  He shrugged, seeming not to care so I reached for a large pink box and began filling it with the small delicious cakes. All the while, I could feel his eyes on me which made it hard for me to breathe. Strangely though, my imminent suffocation didn’t feel all that unpleasant.

  “You’re new here,” he said, looking me over from head to toe. Or at least to waist which was all he could see of me behind the display.

  “Yes,” I said, quickly glancing up in the general vicinity of his forehead, then back down at the cakes. “I’ve been here two weeks. But I’m not really a baker. I came to town for a job in journalism but that hasn’t really worked out. Not that I don’t love this store. It’s like a wonderland. A cake wonderland. I leave here every day smelling like cake. Like vanilla and sweetness and spices…” I knew I was babbling but I couldn’t stop myself. "I just hope we stay open what with Babette’s husband trying to sell the property to an evil real estate developer who wants to turn the whole area into a mini-mall or something…”

  I looked him straight in the teeth. "Sorry. I’m babbling,” I said, taking a breath.

  “Yes,” he said, bending his six foot tall frame down to look at me eye to eye. “You are. What’s your name?”

  I forced myself to look into his eyes. How did they get so green? “Rosie. Rosie Kale.” I said, placing the box in front of him on the counter.

  He straightened up, reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Then he looked me dead in the eye and handed me the money. “I’m Casey Baron,“ he said. “But you can call me by my nickname…‘evil real estate developer.’

  I stared at him, slack-jawed.

  “See you later Rosie,” he said, a slow smile crossing his lips. Then he doffed his imaginary hat and walked out.

  ***

  I hurried into the back room. “Oh my gosh! Babette! I just met Casey Baron!”

  She nodded and smiled. “He comes in every so often. Just to remind me that he’s around. Lurking.”

  “I had no idea it was him! I expected someone older. And…eviler.”

  I took a deep breath and realized that I was probably blushing. As I watched Babette calmly and methodically frost some baby Bundts, I forced myself to focus and calm down.

  “Don’t be fooled by his charming exterior," she warned. “He’s a snake. He’s buying up all the stores in the area and is going to turn the whole thing into a big ugly shopping mall.”

  I nodded profusely. “I know. I know.”

  But wow-- what a handsome snake.

  She sighed. “Unfortunately he’s the snake who’ll probably wind up owning my shop soon.” She stopped what she was doing and looked off, frowning.

  “No, don’t say that! You can’t give up.”

  She shrugged. “I can’t afford to buy out Doug’s share of the property—and he really wants to sell.”

  I nodded. I knew the small charming store was Babette’s heart and soul. It seemed criminal to have to close it now, when it was just starting to do well.

  “I don’t even know why I stay with him. I know I should just leave him." She shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “But we’d still probably have to sell the store in a divorce. And anyway…I’m not strong, like you.”

  “Me? Strong?”

  She nodded and kept frosting. “Yes. You said you left New York because your boyfriend was cheating on you. That’s why you came out here to start a new life…”

  “True. But my new life didn’t actually work out. I mean, I didn’t get that TV news station job. And…to be honest… sometimes I’m tempted to go back to Kevin. Even though I know he’s a cheating jerk”.

  “Love,” she sighed. Then she shook her head and went the check the cakes that were in the oven. ”It’s so much easier to focus on baking the perfect cake.”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “For some of us anyw…” But before I could finish my sentence, the horrible cuckoo clock on the wall began chirping loudly, over and over and over and over and over.

  I waited for the incessantly cheery noise to stop, watching as Babette opened up a shopping bag and pulled out several different packages filled with various types of flour. She squinted at them in contemplation.

  “What is all that?” I asked, when it was finally quiet again. They obviously weren’t the usual ingredients for her cakes.

  “It’s for the bridal shower we’re catering tomorrow morning. The maid of honor who’s throwing the party is gluten-free and I promised I’d make a delectable Bundt just for her. But with everything going on, I just haven’t had a chance to experiment with which would make the best batter. I’ll probably be here all night checking to see which combination of these will work best.”

  “Poor you, I said. “If you need, I’ll stay here and taste-test them for you.”

  “No, you go home and get a good night’s sleep. I want you rested for the shower tomorrow.” She started measuring out the almond flour. "Though Rosie, if you wouldn’t mind. Would you stop at my place on the way home and feed Cupcake?”

  “Sure,” I nodded. “No problem.”

  I already knew that Doug hated Cupcake, Babette’s cat, and would never deign to feed her.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Unless you need anything else?” I turned to see her response but she was already deep in the midst of her cake-creating.

  “Oh and don’t forget,” she called out. “Take some cakes for your Nana.”

  “I will, thanks,” I said with a smile. “I think it’s the only reason she’s letting me live in her guest house.”

  She smiled but didn’t look up from her work.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Music was pouring out of the open window at Babette’s house.

  Great. That meant Doug was home.

  Well I had no choice. I rang the bell. Then I knocked. Then I tried the knob.

  I felt bad just walking inside but Cupcake needed to be fed and Doug obviously was either ignoring the doorbell or couldn’t hear it over the music. So I grabbed the key that was hidden under the planter on the porch and I walked in. As I did, Cupcake came over and rubbed her sleek black body around my ankles, nearly tripping me.

  “Hey sweetie,” I said, bending down to pet her. I could feel her warm little body purring under my hand as I stroked her smooth black fur. She seemed to understand that if she didn’t move, there would be no food, so she began sashaying down the hall towards the kitchen.

  As I followed behind her, I smelled cigar smoke coming from the open door to the den.

  “I’m here to feed Cupcake, Doug!” I called out before I walked by, not wanting to startle him.

  He looked up from his desk and slammed his laptop shut.

  “Try the doorbell next time,” he said in greeting.

  “I did. Sorry. You didn’t hear me.”

  He nodded, reaching for the beer that was on his desk. He took a sip. “Carry on,” he said, dismissing me.

  I went into the kitchen and opened up the can of cat food to the accompaniment of much rubbing and meowing from Cupcake, who was urging me on.

  “I’m going as fast as I can, CC,” I said, placing the bowl down on the mat and refilling her water bowl as well.

  I watched as she ate happily, then I picked up my purse to leave, when Doug came into the room.

  “R
osie,” he said, leaning against the counter. “I wanted to apologize for earlier. For my behavior in the store.” He shook his head in frustration. “It’s just that she’s so…stubborn. Babette. She won’t even consider selling the store. We can always open another one in a different spot, but the land is worth a mint right now.”

  “But…I mean, she loves that store,” I ventured. What could I say? This was none of my business and I didn’t want to get in between Doug and Babette and maybe say something that would make things worse.

  “Look, I know you had a cheating boyfriend so you’re probably…overly-sensitive to men acting like jerks. But I love her. I do. She’s just so…frustrating."

  I stared down, red-faced. I couldn’t believe Babette had told him something so personal about me. In a way, I guess, it made sense—after all husbands and wives probably shared everything. And I hadn’t actually told her not to tell anyone. But still. I didn’t think I needed to.

  Doug got up and went to the fridge and pulled out a casserole. “Well, she may be stubborn, but she sure makes a mean coq au vin. Want a bite?”

  I watched as he scooped out a plateful. “There’s enough for you. And for Babs when she gets home tonight.”

  “She isn’t,” I said, eyeing the delicious-smelling food. “She isn’t coming home tonight. She has to make a gluten-free Bundt so she’ll be working all night at the store.”

  “Working—yeah, right,” he said, shaking his head.

  I frowned at him, not getting his meaning as he tossed his beer bottle into the trash and opened another one. He took a sip, still staring at me as he leaned against the counter. “It’s all yours then." He nodded at the casserole dish. "Just give Babs back the container or she’ll go nuts. She loves to have complete sets of everything."

  I was about to refuse the offer but then the delicious smell of the braised chicken and mushrooms and garlic seduced me. “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Think of it as a peace offering. Goodnight, Rosie.”