Bite-Sized Bakery Cozy Mysteries Box Set

by Rosie A. Point

  “Why do you think she’s a suspect?” I asked. “Could it have something to do with the Babcock? You saw her in the butchery today.”

  “Yeah.” Bee pursed her lips. “Though we can’t possibly find out why without—”

  Detective Martin looked up from his notepad and caught my eye. Quickly, Bee and I averted our gazes. I feigned an interest in the pier’s wooden railing and pretended to comment on it. Bee followed my lead and bent over to examine it.

  “Ladies,” Detective Martin said, stopping beside us.

  “Oh, hello, detective,” I said. “I didn’t see you there.”

  He harrumphed. Was he becoming more like the recently departed Detective Jones or was that just me? He’d gone crotchety ever since he’d started taking over these cases. “You didn’t see me there. Where didn’t you see me?”

  I glanced past him, but the bench where Greta had been seated was empty now. I gave an awkward laugh but didn’t answer.

  “How’s your investigation going, detective?” Bee asked, brusquely. “Any new leads?”

  “You’ll find out when the rest of the public does,” Martin said. “I suggest you two ladies get out of the cold. The weather’s not for tourists. You’re liable to freeze your fingers off.”

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  “It was a strong suggestion.” Martin paused. “The other being that you stay well away from this murder case.”

  “We weren’t doing anything,” I protested.

  But the detective had already started off down the pier, settling his police beanie onto his head and tugging it down around his ears.

  “Well, it looks like we’re on our own on this one,” I said.

  Bee slipped her arm into mine. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Now, let’s get back to the Oceanside before I freeze my fingers off, as Martin so aptly put it.”

  8

  The following day, Bee and I headed out to the town hall, our spirits only slightly dampened by the icy weather. We were set on making this the best possible send-off, both for ourselves, the spirit of Christmas, and for our friends.

  It was difficult, though, to put aside the questions and thoughts revolving around the mayor’s murder. The entire town was abuzz with the news and speculation was rife. Posters had been put against the wrought-iron lampposts—headline news decrying the ongoing investigation.

  Even the weather hadn’t stopped folks from coming out to talk about the murder. The Corner Café was the hotspot of all the activity and given that it was right across from the town hall and the Christmas tree on the grassy—now snowy—knoll, it was the perfect place to stop for coffee.

  Bee and I dipped inside and stripped off our gloves. We joined the line that led toward the coffee machine.

  “Are you ready to get decorating?” I asked.

  “I was born ready,” Bee replied. “I need something to keep me busy. I miss baking, and when I’m not, all I think about is the case.”

  “Me too.”

  The line shifted, and we gave our orders to the barista and paid then stepped aside to wait. “You know,” I said, “I’m thinking we could use some help with the decorating. Maybe, we should get hold of the decorating committee from the Carmel Springs council?”

  “Way ahead of you, Rubes.” Bee pointed toward the town hall.

  Outside it, a small group of people stood waiting. One of them was a familiar, a young man with a ponytail and a thick fluffy coat.

  “Who is that?” I asked. “He looks so familiar.”

  “That’s Jerry. He’s the head of the decorating committee and he was the mayor’s assistant,” she said. “Naturally, he can’t assist anyone now.”

  “Oh, he was the one who was being nice to Ava at the guesthouse.”

  “Right,” Bee said. “Well, he’s been helpful, so far.” She checked her watch. “We’re meeting him in about five minutes.”

  “Does he have the keys to the town hall?” It was shameful on my part, but I hadn’t had much involvement in organizing the decoration of the town hall or even the booking of the venue. I’d spent the last few days cleaning out the truck and occasionally getting emotional over leaving Carmel Springs.

  “Yes, he does,” Bee said, and patted me on the back. “Don’t worry, Rubes. I’ve got everything under control.”

  “You’re a star.”

  Bee flashed me her signature gap-toothed grin. We collected our coffees from a tired barista who still offered us a ‘Merry Christmas’ and a smile.

  We headed out across the street. Snow fell, a thin layer had gathered on the ground this morning, and it seemed it would only get thicker today. I had been dreaming of a ‘Neil Diamond’ white Christmas. The cold was manageable when it was this beautiful. A thin dusting of snow had already attached itself to the branches of the communal Christmas tree.

  “Hello,” Bee called, as we crossed the road.

  Jerry Flagg smiled at her and shook her hand. “Bee. It’s good to see you again. And you’re…”

  “Ruby,” I said, and took his hand next. “Thanks for helping us, Mr. Flagg.”

  “Please, call me Jerry,” he said and wiped his hand off on his jacket after our handshake. “And it’s a great pleasure. We’re happy to help. It’s a fantastic idea to have a Christmas party, and from what I’ve heard, everyone wants to come.” Jerry stamped his feet in his boots. “And I’ve got even better news. I chatted with the town council and did a bit of convincing, and they’ve agreed to help with the costs of the party!”

  “That’s amazing,” I said, my heart filling with joy. It wasn’t that I’d been worried about paying for the party, especially as a farewell event, but the extra funding would help us make this an even bigger deal. “Thank you so much.”

  “That’s totally my pleasure,” Jerry said. “I’m always happy to help out around town.”

  “Wow.” Bee and I exchanged grins.

  “All right, so are you ladies ready to get started?” Jerry asked, clapping his gloved hands together. The other committee members gathered behind him, eager to get started—or just to get out of the cold. “Let’s go!” Jerry dipped his hand into his pocket and removed the key to the town hall doors. He loped over to them, opened up then stepped inside and hit the lights.

  I inhaled sharply.

  I’d half-expected we’d find another body in the hall. But no, it was empty except for the usual chairs lined up facing the podium where the mayor would sometimes speak.

  “All right,” Jerry said, “I hope you ladies don’t mind if I take charge?”

  “Not at all,” I replied.

  “Within reason.” Bee removed her gloves. “We’ve got some decoration plans, but we’ve still got to visit the General Store to stock up on tinsel.”

  “Right, of course.” Jerry had brought out his phone and tapped on the screen. “We’ll see what we can do about that.” His fingers flew over the phone’s touch keyboard as he typed notes. “All right, everyone, let’s get these chairs packed up and placed in the stage wings. Got it?”

  The door to the hall creaked, and Detective Martin entered wearing a thick leather jacket over his uniform. He swept his beanie off his head and came over. “What’s going on here, Flagg?”

  “Jerry’s helping us set up for the party,” I said. “It’s going to be—”

  “I’m afraid that’s not happening,” the detective replied, stiffly. “There won’t be any Christmas parties. We’re shutting the town down.”

  “You’re what?” Bee’s eyes widened.

  I held back a gasp.

  “Shutting the town down in what sense?” Jerry asked.

  “I’ve just come from speaking with the council members. They held a private vote a half an hour ago upon my urging. There will be no festivities or parties, no celebrations in the open and no mass gatherings until the murder of Mayor Jacobsen has been resolved.”

  “That’s not possible,” I said. “Jerry’s just gotten the council to help us fund our party. Why woul
d they—?”

  “That’s not my problem,” Martin said. “I have to do what’s best for the residents of this town, and if that means shutting down every caroling club and Christmas party, so be it.”

  9

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” I said, as we piled out of the town hall.

  Detective Martin stood next to Jerry, breathing down his neck as he ensured the town hall was locked up, and the committee members were in the process of dispersing.

  “Neither can I,” Bee hissed. “There’s no way we’re going to let this happen.”

  “What do you suggest?” I asked, walking a couple of steps away from the detective so he wouldn’t overhear. I can’t believe I thought he was cute. Oof, now, that was out of left field. “We can’t go against direct orders.”

  “Yes,” Bee said, “but we can solve the case. There’s no way they can stop us from celebrating with our friends if we remove the threat.”

  “Of course.” The threat. “They wouldn’t shut the town down unless they were scared the murderer would strike again. But why? Who would be the target?”

  “I don’t know.” Bee brushed snowflakes from her hair. “But I’m sure we can figure this out.”

  Could we? It felt, sometimes, like all the past solved cases had been lucky breaks. Or that we’d taken a step too far and been fortunate enough not to get either arrested or hurt ourselves. Sheesh, since when are you full of self-doubt?

  “We just have to nail down our suspect list,” Bee said. “And maybe check out the crime scene once things have, you know, calmed down.”

  Another sprinkle of doubt frosted my mind donut. “Do you really think it’s best to get involved? I mean, the police—”

  “Are y’all talking about the murder?” A woman spoke directly in my ear, and I jumped about a foot in the air.

  I landed with a hiccup of a yelp and spun toward her.

  She was short and thin as a rake, with long fingers that twitched at her sides. Her hair was tucked up underneath a polka-dotted beanie, and her smile was yellow-toothed and broad. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Misty Lamone.”

  “Misty Lamone,” I repeated, unable to tear my focus from her. It was the way she carried herself, and the strange outfit she’d put together—a lime green coat, the beanie, and then a pair of purple-striped pants.

  “Well, Misty Lamone,” Bee said, “you’ve just interrupted our conversation rather rudely. Is there something you want?” I could always trust Bee to say it exactly as it was.

  Misty glanced back at the town hall, and I did too. Most of the folks there had dispersed, but Martin appeared to be in deep conversation—or argument—with Jerry.

  “Let’s step around the corner,” Misty whispered. “I think I can help you solve the case.”

  “You heard that?” I asked.

  “Uh, yeah? You weren’t exactly whispering.” Misty rolled her eyes—she had on purple eyeliner. “Look, I know who you two are. You’re the leaf peepers who do that food truck baking stuff, right?”

  “Right. But what’s that—” I started.

  “And you solved a few murders around town,” Misty said. “Let’s just say, I saw something, and I didn’t want to talk to the police about it, but I did want the murder to be, you know, solved… who would I talk to?”

  “A couple of leaf peepers, apparently.” Bee peered past Misty at the detective again. “All right, let’s step around the corner and check out the Christmas tree.”

  A mixture of excitement and nerves erupted in my belly as we walked around the corner with Misty, across the street and toward the snowy knoll and the massive Christmas tree.

  The tree was absolutely stunning. I hadn’t had the chance to admire it the other night, given the circumstances, but up close, the special touches, the tiny glittery red buoys in honor of the lobster industry that kept the town alive brought warmth and comfort, as did the flashing lights and silver-white star on top.

  Misty stopped in front of it, rubbing her arms. “All right, that’s better. Now, he can’t hear us.”

  “Why don’t you want to talk to the police?” Bee was an ex-cop. No doubt, Misty seemed pretty darn suspicious to her. She did to me too.

  “Let’s just say, I have a spotty history with them.”

  “Define spotty,” Bee replied. “You, uh, ran into trouble with the law? You did something wrong?”

  “Look, if you’re worried that I’m somehow involved, you can breathe easy. I wasn’t. But I was around when the tree was being erected before the murder, and I think I saw something.”

  “Before the murder?” I asked.

  Bee put up a purple gloved hand. “Wait a minute. First, tell us exactly what you did wrong that you’re not interested in talking to the police.”

  Misty sniffed, her cheeks red either in defiance or from the cold. “Look,” she said, “either you want this information or you don’t. I ain’t gonna hang around and talk to you if you’re going to try to pry into my private business.” She jerked her head to one side. “Now, do you want the information or not?”

  Bee pursed her lips.

  “We want the information,” I said, quickly.

  “Good. OK, so the stage was right here, in front of the knoll. And the tree is here obviously. We spent the whole day decorating. They made me do the back,” Misty said, rolling her eyes again—apparently, that was her signature move. “Come on. Around here.” She had a strange gait, a sort of ‘hunchback of Notre Dame’ walk without the hunchback.

  “See.” Misty gestured to the tree. “I was on this side hanging up the baubles. Anyway, I took a break because trimming a tree is hard work. I was sitting right here.” She scuffed the ground with her shoe. “With a view of the church over there.” She pointed to the building directly across from the grassy patch.

  The back of the church was hidden behind snow-dusted fir trees, and a low slung stone wall that was topped in wrought-iron spikes. The gate itself was wrought iron too and locked with a thick padlock.

  “Anyways, so I’m sitting here, having a smoke, and I saw this… person. At the time, I thought they were watching me, but I wasn’t sure.”

  “A person? What did they look like?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat. Could it have been the killer, casing out the murder scene prior to doing the deed? Eugh. I hate how that sounds.

  “That’s the thing. I didn’t see their face. They were sort of crouched down, peeking over the edge of the stone part of the wall. They had a beanie on, and all I saw were their eyes.”

  “Did you see what color they were?”

  “No, sorry. They were wearing sunglasses. But they did have on black gloves. It was so weird that I sort of just stubbed out my cigarette and ran over to the Corner Café to grab a drink of coffee. By the time I got back, they were gone.” Misty shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s worth much, but I thought someone ought to know.”

  “You really should tell the police,” I said.

  “No. No way. And if you tell them, I’ll say I have no idea what you’re talking about, all right? So, just butt out of my life.” Misty gave them both a final venomous stare then marched around the tree, her boots crunching in the snow.

  “Wow,” I said.

  “Wow indeed. It looks like we finally have another lead.”

  My gaze shifted to the back of the church again. Bee was right. We had a starting point and information that Detective Martin didn’t. That meant it was even less likely he’d catch us if we did investigate the churchyard.

  “What do you say, Rubes? Are we doing this?”

  I took a final breath. Surely you can’t do this. You’ll get caught. Or you won’t be able to solve the case or… “We’re doing it,” I said, setting my jaw.

  10

  The lights from the Christmas tree sparkled next to the town hall. The decorations were perfect, from the baubles and mistletoe trimmings to the sparkling star on the very top of the tree, but the warm Christmassy vibe didn’t change the fact that
Bee and I were frozen and dressed in black.

  We tried to affect a natural attitude as we approached the back of the church. The lights in the street were still on, but the lampposts were far apart, and the last of the late-night shoppers in the center of town had already rushed back to their homes, their arms laden with parcels.

  The night sky was shrouded in a blanket of clouds and all was deathly quiet because of the snow. Ooh, maybe don’t think of it as ‘deathly.’ After all, we were fast approaching the same stone wall where Misty had claimed she’d seen a strange person casing out the Christmas tree.

  Could one case out a Christmas tree? The thought was ridiculous.

  “I’m frozen,” I whispered.

  “Me too. But this will be worth it in the end,” Bee said, eying the church’s gate. It was spiked, but it wasn’t too tall. “If we can get over.”

  “We’ll get over. You’re only as old as you feel.”

  “For a second, I thought you said ‘cold’ as I feel. Because it’s colder than a…” A car passed in the street, and Bee stiffened. It turned off before it reached us, thankfully. “We’d better make this quick, Rubes. Let’s go.” She gestured to the gate.

  “What? Me? First?”

  “Yes, you first. You’ve got the younger legs.”

  “Only by twenty-odd years.”

  She wrinkled her nose at me.

  “All right, all right.” I glanced left and right down the street then hurried to the gate. I closed my gloves around the metal spokes, and the cold came through, regardless of the comfy sheep’s wool lining. I found a spot for my foot then climbed over, avoiding the spikes at the top. I dropped down on the other side. “See? Easy.”

  “You did make that look elegant,” Bee said, tugging down the corners of her black beanie. “All right. I’m coming over.” Bee was skinny and all arms and legs as she scrambled over the gate. She dropped down beside me, dusting off her gloves. “Easy peasy lemon squeezy.”