The Sweet Baked Mystery Series - Books 1-6

by Katherine Hayton

  “Don’t go too far,” Sophie called after him. “I don’t want to have to come searching when your dad’s funeral begins.”

  Chastened, Matthew’s face fell in sorrow for a moment, then he turned and began running again, once more an airplane.

  Sophie and Amber walked together into the makeshift chapel. Although they didn’t touch each other, they seemed reconciled to the company. With a sigh of relief, Holly ducked her head into the waiting room and saw Marshall standing by the window. His face was blank as he stared out at the view completely bereft.

  After a moment spent tussling up on just leaving, Holly cleared her throat instead, announcing her presence. At the sound, Marshall’s expression flooded with animation.

  “You’ve done a nice job in here,” he said in a low voice. “I’m sure that Steven would be most satisfied.”

  Suddenly, Holly felt what Wendy had hinted at earlier. To stay and watch the funeral with this family—her a complete stranger—would be too much of an imposition.

  “I was just thinking about heading back to work,” she said. “If you don’t need me for anything further here.”

  Marshall raised his eyebrows and studied Holly carefully until she began to squirm. “You’ll need to stay until the end of the service,” he said. “Mr. Willoughby mentions you in his recording.”

  “I thought you hadn’t seen it?”

  “I haven’t. He left a summary of bequests that are contained within it. They have to form part of the written will as well, in order to make the legal side easier. You aren’t required to stay, but I imagine that he thought you would.”

  Holly shifted from one foot to the other. It would still be uncomfortable to be the only one not grieving, and the man probably thought that her father would be the one listening, but at least she wouldn’t be an unwanted guest.”

  “I didn’t know that. In that case, of course, I’ll stay.”

  Marshall gave one more longing stare out of the window, then sighed. “I’ll need to go and gather everybody together,” he said. “The ceremony is due to start in just a few minutes.”

  “Amber and Sophie are already waiting in the other room,” Holly told him. “And Matty is wandering around the lobby somewhere, pretending to be a plane.”

  The startled expression on Marshall’s face told Holly that yesterday hadn’t been the first time that the two women hadn’t gotten along.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “Amber and Sophie looked as thick as thieves when they went inside.” That might be stretching the truth a little, but it was worth it to watch the dismay disappear from Marshall’s face. “Do you want me to try to round up Matty?”

  “If you don’t mind, that would be great. I didn’t realize that you knew the family.”

  “Just those three,” Holly said. “We introduced ourselves outside the bakery the other day.”

  Marshall nodded but his thoughts appeared to be wandering already. He walked over to the door with Holly, then bade her goodbye as he headed farther onto the elevator.

  As Holly scanned the ground floor, she wondered who else would be in attendance at the ceremony. With a multiple generation family, she supposed it would be hard to guess.

  “Matty!” she called out, catching sight of his hand—or wingtip—going past the door. “Come here. Your mother’s expecting you in the other room.”

  Matthew followed along behind Holly with such obedience that she admired his mother all the more. Given how often lately she’d be waiting in a supermarket checkout or similar while a child ran around screaming with no parental reprimand in sight, it was a welcome change to meet such a well-mannered child. Airplane sound effects notwithstanding.

  As soon as they walked through the door and Matty spied his mother, he ran straight up to her, burying his face in her skirt. She whispered something to him, a reassurance that calmed the tight set of his shoulders back into a relaxed line.

  “And the prodigal son has been fetched.” Marshall strode into the room with a tall stranger in tow. The man was so tall that Holly felt herself sinking into the floorboards in comparison. It wasn’t often she had to crane her neck to look up into a person’s face. When he swept by her, it was a relief.

  With uncertainty creeping into her body again, Holly slipped quietly into a seat at the back of the room. Marshall deposited the new arrival in the front bench where he received a warm smile from Amber and a frown from Sophie. The man leaned over to give Matthew a high-five—an act that left the boy smiling until Marshall pulled aside the curtain at the front of the room to reveal the polished oak casket.

  While Marshall walked to the pulpit and shuffled papers, the assembled family members stared behind him where their deceased father lay.

  Even though Holly had no connection with the man, she could feel the solemnity of the moment. The grief in the room was a palpable thing and she came close to tears, thinking of the death of her own father.

  “I’m sorry that we’ve had to meet here today under such sad circumstances,” Marshall said, then had to pause to clear his throat. Holly wished that she could help him out; the poor man was choking up. But Marshall soon rallied.

  “Rather than have a celebrant lead the ceremony today, Steven Willoughby chose to record a message about his life for you all to hear.” Marshall stopped reading and gazed around the room with a rueful expression. “The technology is rather outdated, I’m afraid, so please keep your fingers crossed that it works okay.”

  The small gathering gave a subdued burst of sympathetic laughter as Marshall cued up the VCR. Holly stared at the machine, once so familiar, and now so antiquated. She crossed her fingers on her lap, in case that helped.

  The screen to the right of the pulpit came to life, clouded with a flurry of electronic snow. Marshall pressed a button on the remote, pressed again when there was no response, then crouched down in front of the machine to press the button manually. Third time was the charm.

  Steven Willoughby sprung into life on the screen, and both Amber and Sophie gasped. Matthew wriggled on his seat and pointed to the image. “There’s Daddy!”

  The man on screen cleared his throat and aimed a disconcerting stare straight down the camera.

  “Hello, family,” he said. “If you’re sitting and watching this today, that means I’m dead. I’ve gathered you here in the Statesman Hotel to work out who murdered me!”

  Chapter Seven

  Holly gasped at the pronouncement. Her eyes flicked from the back of one family member’s head to another. One of them was a murderer?

  What a dreadful thing! Why weren’t the police here instead of a lawyer and a cupcake baker?

  Holly gripped the back of the seat in front of her, ready to spring to her feet and leave the room. She didn’t want to be any part of this. Since arriving in town, she’d already been uncomfortably close to a murder and several—luckily failed—attempts. This was none of her business, and that’s the way Holly wanted it to say.

  Then Steven Willoughby laughed.

  “I’ve always wanted to say that. I hope it gets as good a laugh as I always thought it should.”

  Holly’s mouth dropped open and she relaxed her grip on the chair.

  “What kind of foolishness is this?” Samuel demanded, standing and walking over to Marshall. “This is a hard-enough time for all of us. Why don’t you put a stop to this and just read out the will?”

  “I can’t,” Marshall said, backing up a step. He waved his hand at the papers lying on the pulpit. “You can read for yourself. If the recording is in fit condition to be played, then I’m required to play it.”

  “Let me guess,” Steven Willoughby’s long ago recorded voice spoke out again, “Right now Samuel’s protesting that I’m an old fool and Amber’s got her head bowed because she’s embarrassed by her dad. Am I right?”

  Holly’s gaze moved from the elder brother to his sister. Although Amber’s head was indeed bowed, judging by the set of her shoulders it wasn’t embarrassment writ large
upon her face, but fury.

  “I’d like to say that I don’t want to upset anybody,” the dead man’s voice continued, “but that would just be a lie. It’s my day. I should be allowed to upset whomever I want. Just a moment—” the on-screen figure shuffled about, patting his pockets as though searching for something “—I swear that I had a list.”

  With the recording apparently continuing, Samuel sat down again, his jaw jutting out in a position that seemed carved from stone. When Amber leaned across to touch his arm, he didn’t turn to look at her. Instead, shaking his head and staring in disgust at the screen.

  “Never mind,” the recording continued. “Since I can’t find the list I wrote down, then you’ll have to bear with my old memory instead. I suppose you all know why I chose this place to gather?”

  Although the question was obviously years old by now, Holly saw Amber and Samuel nodding in unison. It was Sophie’s turn to appear distressed at the proceedings—after a shake of her head, she dabbed at the corners of her eyes with an already-sodden tissue.

  “This is the hotel where I spent my honeymoon with Rebecca, my first wife. Without doubt, this was my favorite place on earth where I spend the happiest time of my life with the person I loved the most.”

  Ouch. Even if the statements were true, Holly’s heart went out to Sophie. The way she shifted in her seat suggested to Holly that she’d known that speech was coming. Had the poor woman been subjected to the same first-wife worship while their own relationship was ongoing?

  “Of course, that was how I felt a long time ago. It may surprise you to know that it’s not how I feel now. No. This hotel is now the scene of the greatest betrayal that any man could suffer. I’ll pause for a moment now, while my good friend and lawyer—Marshall Brent—hands out the evidence of that regrettable situation.”

  While Holly sat back in her seat, brows drawn together in complete confusion, Marshall picked up some envelopes and prepared to hand them out.

  As he approached Samuel, Marshall hesitated. “Please know that I didn’t have any part in this,” he said in a soft voice that practically begged for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry. If I’d know what your father had planned, believe me—I would have talked him out of it.”

  Samuel grabbed the envelope out of Marshall’s hand with a jerk. “We’ve always just been pawns in Daddy’s games,” he snapped. “Why should his funeral be anything different?”

  To Holly’s surprise, after handing out envelopes to every family member, Marshall walked down the aisle to hand one to her, too.

  “Holly Waterston,” was written in bold lettering on the front. She turned it over but there was nothing further on the back. The envelope was fully sealed.

  “I want you all to know that I would’ve done anything for Rebecca. If she’d asked me to buy her the moon, I’d have had NASA on the phone in a second.” Steven Willoughby sighed, aging ten years in the same amount of seconds. “Unfortunately, it’s become clear to me that my darling wife never felt the same way.”

  On the recording, Steven Willoughby began to weep. He shook his hand at the camera and a second later the recording went to black.

  “Intermission,” arrived onscreen a moment later.

  “According to Mr. Willoughby’s instructions, he’d now like you to take a break and have some refreshments, provided for you in the next room.” Marshall waved his hand at the door while everyone stayed seated exactly where they were.

  “What the hell are these?” Samuel asked, flapping his envelope in the air.

  Marshall Brent looked behind him, up to the ceiling, as though seeking guidance or an intervention.

  “They’re to be kept on your persons and opened later in the proceedings at a time allotted by your father.”

  Samuel glanced across to his sister and shrugged. “Or, I could just open it now.” He slipped a finger into the corner and slid it along the glued flap.

  “No!”

  The cry was so loud in the small room, that Holly jerked back in her chair.

  “You’re not to open them until Mr. Willoughby instructs you to!”

  “Or what?” Steven’s casual voice was backed with a ton of steel. “What exactly can you do to stop me?”

  “If you don’t act in accordance with your father’s wishes today, then he’ll disinherit you from the estate.”

  Samuel laughed. “Big whoop. I have my own money, thank you very much. I’m not the one hanging around with my tongue out waiting for his.”

  He turned and glared straight at Sophie as he said the words. She shrank back, her shoulders curving in defensively.

  “The entire family will be disinherited,” Marshall continued. “Not just you. If the day doesn’t go as your father requested, then he’s leaving everything to the local SPCA shelter.”

  “Good,” Samuel said, preparing to rip the envelope further. “I’m sure the little cats and doggies need it far more than any of us.”

  “Samuel, please!” Amber reached across and stopped his hand. She stared at him, her expression pleading. “Can’t you just do as father asked, just this once? The day will be bad enough without you trying your best to ruin it, too.”

  Chastened, Samuel tucked the envelope into the inside pocket of his sports jacket instead. “Fine,” he said, extending out his empty hands toward his sister. “I’ll let Dad slowly torture us all again, just for old times’ sake.”

  Holly tucked her own envelope into her purse. She stayed seated until the rest of the family had filed out of the room.

  “I didn’t realize that I was part of the proceedings,” she remarked to Marshall as he walked by.

  The man’s face turned a peculiar shade of bright pink, as fresh as the center of a dew-soaked rose. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I would have asked but I didn’t know how to broach it properly.”

  Holly frowned at him. “So, it wasn’t my catering that Mr. Willoughby was after?”

  “Oh, no,” Marshall said, holding a hand out. “He definitely wanted that. It’s included in the instructions, as I said. I can show you after the ceremony’s complete, if you want proof.”

  “But he needed me at the service, as well?”

  Marshall shifted from foot to foot, his face a study in being miserable. “Yes. He made that clear in the instructions, as well.”

  Holly smiled up at him, curiosity sparking through her. “What would you have done if I grabbed a lift home with Wendy today instead? What if my car hadn’t been in the garage, or I called a taxi without saying goodbye?”

  Marshall smiled back at her, his shoulders relaxing. “Then I would have been in a lot of trouble and I’d have turned up on your shop floor, demanding that you come back.”

  “Oh. You’d be demanding, would you?”

  Although Marshall went an even deeper shade of pink, he nodded. “When it’s part of my job, I always execute it down to the letter.”

  He held out his arm for Holly to take, and she accepted it, walking through to the next room along together. Outside the door, they could easily hear that an argument was brewing inside.

  “Did Mr. Willoughby instruct that the family had to stay in the same room for the entire intermission?” Holly inquired. When Marshall shook his head, she continued, “Good. I’ll take Sophie and Matthew for a walk of the grounds, then. Just to get her and Amber out of each other’s’ hair.”

  “Good idea.”

  When they walked into the room, there was a short lull in the raging argument, but it didn’t last for long.

  “Considering that he couldn’t even be bothered to marry you—”

  “Sophie!” Holly interrupted before Amber could finish off whatever vile thought she had planned. “Would you and Matthew like to come for a walk outside? I can show you a place to see the township in its full glory.”

  Sophie grabbed her son’s hand and practically ran at Holly in her eagerness to escape the room. Just stopping long enough to grab one of her own blueberry cupcakes—as usual, she was famished
—Holly scurried to catch up.

  “How are you doing, young man?” Holly asked Matthew.

  There was a glob of frosting on the side of his mouth, so at least she knew he’d managed to eat something. Instead of answering her, though, he grabbed hold of his mother and hid his face in her skirts.

  “Matty is very shy, I’m afraid,” Sophie said in a soft voice. “I keep hoping that he’ll grow out of it.”

  “Nothing wrong with being shy,” Holly said firmly. She’d been that way herself for more years than she wanted to count. “Sometimes, it’s the only defense we have against strange and dangerous things. Reticence should be one of the virtues.”

  Sophie gave her a grateful smile, and as they walked up behind the hotel, she patted Matthew on the head and pointed at the small playground. Fashioned in a time before safety regulations became fully evolved, the swings and slides were based in hard concrete. Later, someone had tipped bark on top of it, but Holly didn’t think that it would offer a falling body much protection.

  Still, she’d grown up on the same equipment, and sometimes she liked to think that she’d turned out all right.

  “I know you were just searching for an excuse to get me out of there,” Sophie said, puffing a bit with the exertion. “But you’re quite right. This view is absolutely spectacular.”

  She pointed down at the loose fog hanging over the center of town. “I’m going to guess they’re the hot pools.”

  “That’s right,” Holly said, standing beside her on the sloping lawn. She pointed down an little bit across from the springs. “And just over there is my bakery.”

  “Did you set it up by yourself?”

  Holly laughed. “No. My training was as a lawyer, just like poor old Marshall. When I left Christchurch, I joined my sister in running the shop, but it’s been in the family for generations.”