Beachfront Bakery: A Killer Cupcake

by Fiona Grace

  He rubbed his forehead like this was all giving him a headache. Like Giuseppe had caused a massive inconvenience and he needed to find a way to fix it.

  Ali, on the other hand, was utterly flabbergasted by the turn of events. Preston Lockley had been murdered by a mobster because he’d insulted his grandma’s pizza recipe?

  “How are we supposed to clean up this mess?” Fat Tony muttered aloud, shaking his head.

  “We don’t,” Giuseppe said. “Because someone’s already in jail for it.”

  Ali was about to protest against them leaving Pete in jail to take the rap for it, then remembered who she was dealing with and kept mum.

  “This time, sure,” Fat Tony said. “But what about next time someone insults Nonna’s pizza recipe? What then? I gave you a chance because you promised me you wouldn’t kill anyone again. And it took you a day to break that promise.”

  Again? Ali thought with a grimace. Was that Giuseppe’s prior “little mishap”? Murder?

  Fat Tony continued. “We can’t have you bumping off every unhappy customer. It’s bad for business. You’re a loose cannon, Giuseppe. We can’t have loose cannons in our gang.”

  Ali’s eyes widened as she realized what Fat Tony was implying. She leapt to her feet, ready to make a run for it if bullets started raining down.

  It took Giuseppe a little longer to cotton on, but when the horrified dawning overcame his features, his skin turned pallid as the blood drained from it.

  Suddenly, moving like a bolt of lightning, Giuseppe ran for the door.

  He shoved past Ali in his haste to get out, and she staggered back, almost tripping. One of Fat Tony’s mobsters caught her by the elbow, righting her and smiling politely, before streaking out the store in pursuit of the fleeing Giuseppe.

  The pizzeria cleared out in a matter of seconds, leaving just Fat Tony and Ali inside. Ali motioned for the door, but the fat mobster held his hand up to stop her.

  “You don’t want to see,” he said, in a grandfatherly kind of tone.

  Ali halted. This entire thing was messing with her head.

  She waited for some kind of sound that would tell her Giuseppe had met a grisly end, but instead of beatings or gunfire, she heard the loud barking of a dog.

  Fat Tony looked at her, confused. He dropped the hand he’d been using to halt her. Ali could tell by his face that things weren’t going the way he’d anticipated.

  “What now…” he muttered, shaking his head.

  Together, they paced over to the door and peered out.

  Giuseppe was lying on the sidewalk very much alive, writhing and crying out. To Ali’s surprise, the reason for his distress was not a beating from his former gang members, but Scruff the dog. The furry little scamp had his jaws clamped around Giuseppe’s ankle, making the man writhe in agony. All the mobsters who’d been chasing him before were standing around guffawing their heads off.

  “Oi!” Fat Tony bellowed across the street at them. “What are you doing?”

  His gang jumped like a bunch of unruly kids getting shouted at in the schoolyard. They looked at Tony uncertainly.

  Fat Tony threw his arms in the air with annoyance. “Kill him!”

  “But boss,” one of the men said, pointing at Scruff and his sharp teeth latched around Giuseppe’s ankle. “There’s a dog.”

  “I don’t care!” Fat Tony screamed. “Kill the dog if you have to!”

  “No!” Ali cried. “Please don’t hurt the dog. He’s a … friend of mine.”

  Tony looked at her with a peculiar expression, then huffed. “Fine. Don’t kill the dog!”

  His gang looked relieved. But they were still hesitant to approach Scruff. They danced around awkwardly, trying to find a way in to begin their attack, then jumping back when they got too close to Scruff’s jaws.

  Suddenly flashing lights appeared at the end of the street. Someone must’ve heard all the commotion and called the cops.

  The gangsters looked hapless as they exchanged glances. Then they abandoned the scene, fleeing in all different directions.

  “Imbeciles,” Fat Tony yelled, thumping his fist on the door frame. “There’s a reason why they say if you want something done, do it yourself,” he lamented.

  He reached for his pocket, and Ali caught a glimpse of a leather gun holster at his hip.

  “Wait!” Ali cried, stopping him before he did anything hasty. “You can’t shoot him. The cops are right there.”

  Fat Tony regarded her with skepticism and curiosity, as if trying to work out if this was a trick or not. Then he nodded slowly, and withdrew his hand from the gun he’d been reaching for.

  “You don’t need Giuseppe dead to get him out of the picture,” Ali continued. “You just need him in prison, right?”

  “Yes,” Fat Tony said. Then he sucked air between his teeth. “I don’t know if you know, but there’s a reason why you never see guys who look like me standing in witness boxes at court. Families like mine avoid cops and courts and judges and all that stuff at all costs. None of us are going to be witnesses to his confession.”

  “I could be the witness,” Ali said. “I was there when he confessed, too, and I don’t mind talking to courts or cops or judges.”

  She glanced up the road where the black Mercedes was pulling to the curb beside where Scruff and Giuseppe were grappling.

  “Besides,” she added, looking back at the round-cheeked mobster, “I know those guys.”

  Fat Tony looked unconvinced. But all Ali cared about was stopping Giuseppe from becoming another senseless murder victim in Willow Bay. One was more than enough to last her for a lifetime.

  “Well?” Ali pressed. “Want to leave this one to me?”

  Finally, Fat Tony nodded.

  “It’s all yours, Blondie,” he said, retreating back to his pizzeria, tapping his nose as he disappeared.

  His was one secret Ali intended to keep.

  She turned back to the scene. Detective Elton was talking into her walkie-talkie—calling animal control and an ambulance—while Detective Callihan cautiously attempted to manage the situation. Ali had no idea how she’d managed to get herself caught up in the mob’s affairs, but if it was the only way to stop the killing, then she was prepared to do what she must.

  She took a deep breath and steeled herself, then exited Fat Tony’s pizzeria and trotted toward the two detectives.

  “Hey! Guys!” she cried, waving her hand over her head. “This is the man who killed Preston Lockley!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  Hours later, after giving the police her report and going back to her store, Ali stood in her empty bakery. She might be able to solve a murder case, but she still couldn’t make a sale if her life depended on it. And thanks to Pete spreading malicious rumors around about the state of hygiene in her store, she might never get a chance. Her Willow Bay adventure may be over before it had really ever began.

  Just then, the door flew open, making the bell jangle angrily, and in rushed Teddy.

  “Teddy?” Ali said from behind the counter, taken aback at the unexpected appearance of her brother. “What are you doing here?”

  She’d texted him as soon as the situation with Giuseppe and the police was over, but hadn’t expected him to immediately drop everything and drive all the way here from Venice Beach.

  Teddy ran right up to her and swept her into a bone-crushing hug. “Ali-cat! What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you having a medical emergency?”

  He released her and took her by the shoulders, staring into each of her eyes as if looking for signs of sickness.

  “I’m fine,” Ali said, perplexed by his questions. “Just a little shaken up after what happened.”

  “Tell me what happened,” he asked, sounding utterly flummoxed.

  “There’s not really anything to tell. I said it all in my text.”

  Teddy raised a single eyebrow and produced his cell phone.

  “This text?” he said, flashing the screen her way. “Solved the
case scruff bitman, was mop!,” he read aloud. “I’m sure you can forgive me for panicking when that garbled message arrived in my inbox.”

  “Oh,” Ali said, embarrassed.

  She’d been so shaken up she’d had no idea what she’d typed. Clearly, a load of gobbledygook without punctuation.

  “What I was trying to say was that I solved the case,” she explained. “Scruff—the dog, the stray I told you about—he bit the man. As in the killer.”

  Teddy narrowed his eyes and nodded along, as if trying to make sense of what she was telling him. “And what about the bit about the mop?”

  “Mob,” Ali corrected. “I was meant to write mob.”

  The color drained from Teddy’s face. “Mob?!” he screeched.

  “Shh!” Ali said, using both her hands to hush him. “Don’t go shouting it aloud! Someone might hear.”

  Teddy clapped a hand over his mouth. He glanced over each shoulder, looking absolutely terrified.

  Then he moved his fingers apart and whispered through the gap. “Are you kidding me, Ali? The killer was part of the mob? And you got him caught? You’re going to get your legs broken. Or your ears cut off.” He grabbed her hand and began yanking her toward the door. “We have to go. Leave the business and the apartment. Go into witness protection.”

  Ali dug her heels in, resisting his attempts to drag her out of the bakery. “Teddy, calm down!”

  “Calm down?” Teddy yelled, forgetting all about being quiet. “The mob is after you.”

  “No, they’re not,” she told him firmly. She pulled her arm free of his grip. “The guy was new. And he messed up by killing Preston and putting Fat Tony on the police’s radar. Fat Tony’s actually glad I interfered.”

  “F—Fat Tony?” Teddy echoed, looking hypnotized. “I think I need to sit down.”

  He dropped himself into a seat and stared into the middle distance, looking like he was in complete shock.

  “I’ll get you some water,” Ali told her stricken brother.

  She hurried to the kitchen.

  Poor Teddy, she thought as she filled a glass with water. It’s a lot to take in.

  She returned to the store to give Teddy his water, but just as she entered, the bell over the door tinkled again. This time, a blur of gorgeous, tanned skin and blond hair entered.

  “Nate?” Ali said, her mouth instantly going dry at the sight of the handsome surfer. “What are you doing here?”

  Nate looked confused, his thick blond brows drawn together into a frown.

  “I just saw Pete,” he said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “Looks like the police released him.”

  Ali let out a breath of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. That’s a relief.”

  Despite his attempts to sabotage her business, Ali didn’t want an innocent man languishing in prison for no reason.

  Nate flashed her querying eyes. “I don’t get it. I thought he killed Preston. That’s what everyone around town was saying.”

  Ali shook her head. “It wasn’t him. It was Giuseppe, from the new pizzeria.”

  “There’s a new pizzeria?” Nate asked.

  “Not anymore, I guess,” Ali replied with a shrug.

  Just then, Nate spotted Teddy sitting like a statue staring at nothing.

  “Is that guy bothering you?” he whispered under his breath.

  Ali chuckled. “Actually, that’s my brother. He just got some shocking news is all.”

  She suddenly remembered the glass of water she’d fetched for him, and placed it on the tabletop before him. Teddy took one look at it, then turned his haunted eyes up to Ali.

  “Got anything stronger?” he asked.

  “Yeah, you might want to give him some whiskey or something,” Nate said, sounding concerned for the strange zombie-like man.

  “Good idea,” Ali replied. “I could do with one myself after the day I’ve had.” Realizing this may well be the last chance she had to spend time with Nate, she boldly added, “Want to join us?”

  Nate smiled. He took an uncertain look at the zombie that was Teddy. “You sure?”

  “He’ll perk up once he’s got a couple of shots in him,” Ali replied.

  Nate shrugged. “Okay, sure, if that’s cool with you.”

  Ali went to the kitchen to fetch the bottle of rum she used to flambé with, wondering as she went what her future now held. She may well have worked out who killed Preston Lockley and helped the local mobster resolve his problems, but none of that was exactly going to ingratiate her with the locals. And even if she asked Pete to vouch for her and explain he’d made up those rumors about her health violations, why would anyone listen? He’d presumably lost a lot of respect among the locals after being seen carted off in the back of a cop car.

  She walked back into the bakery, gazing wistfully at the bistro tables she’d sourced and the chairs she’d prettily upholstered. She looked forlornly at the display fridge filled with wasted pastries. Her days here were numbered. It was inevitable. It would only be a matter of time before she had to pack up and leave.

  She sighed heavily, and went over to the window seat with the bottle. She poured three shot glasses with rum and pushed them across the window table. As she did, she spotted something out the window behind Nate. It was a very forlorn-looking Scruff, standing on the sidewalk watching her through the window with his tail hanging low with dejection.

  Ali’s heart leapt. It was her furry hero!

  She leapt from the table and hurried to the door. “Scruff! Come inside! You were the hero today!”

  Scruff let out an excited yip, wagging his tail eagerly as he came bounding inside.

  “I don’t have any bones for you,” she said. “But I do have some berries.”

  She’d been planning on making mixed berry turnovers, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Better not to let them go to waste.

  She went again to the kitchen to fetch a ceramic bowl. She filled it with berries and took it to the table, setting it beside Teddy. Scruff looked perplexed for a moment, before he jumped up onto the window seat and happily began chomping away.

  Ali took her seat beside him. If it hadn’t been for the dire financial situation she was soon to face, and the fact her business dreams were now in tatters, she would’ve found it rather amusing, the sight of the four of them at the table. They certainly made a peculiar bunch.

  Teddy downed his rum and poured another. “So if this Giuseppe fella’s in the clink, does that mean you’re off the hook?” he asked.

  Nate looked surprised at the first words he’d heard come out of the strange zombie-man’s lips. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

  Ali hesitated. She didn’t much feel like explaining the whole debacle. And while she was of course relieved to be in the clear, it didn’t stop the creeping reality that her time in Willow Bay was almost up.

  “There’s no point going into it,” Ali told Nate. “Preston’s killer was caught, so I’m not being investigated by the cops anymore.”

  Nate looked elated. “But Ali, this is wonderful news! Now you can focus on making this place a success, instead of having to spend all your time clearing your name.”

  Ali sighed sadly. Her mom’s sharp words during their phone call repeated in her mind. Her dream was silly, and now Ali had to admit defeat.

  “It’s too late for that,” Ali said. “My rent’s due on the apartment and the store soon, and I’ve barely sold a thing. I can’t pay for either.”

  Saying it aloud made it more real, and Ali felt her shoulders slump sadly with the reality. Scruff nudged her with his nose, as if to cheer her up. But nothing would cheer Ali. She may have won the battle, but she’d lost the war.

  Just then, the door flew open, so fast it made everyone jump in their seats.

  Scruff barked angrily as the hurricane of Delaney came rushing in. She was panting heavily, like she’d run all the way here from Little Bits of This and That.

  “Ali!” she cried, her jewelry jangling as she hurried to
the table where the three of them sat. “Did you hear?”

  Ali raised her shot glass. “Pete’s been released. Giuseppe was the killer. Why don’t you sit down and have some rum with us? We’re celebrating. Or commiserating, depending on which way you look at it.”

  Delaney looked perplexed. “What are you talking about?” Then she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no time to explain. Turn on the radio!”

  Ali frowned.

  Delaney flapped her hands frantically. “Now! Before it’s too late!”

  Confused, Ali obeyed Delaney’s command, going over to the counter and turning the radio on.

  After the static cleared, a familiar voice floated out from it. It was an enthusiastic male voice. Ali recognized it from somewhere.

  “Is that… Mr. Positive?” she exclaimed, remembering the man who’d so enthusiastically enjoyed her comfort cupcakes.

  She couldn’t believe it. Mr. Positive was a radio show host?

  “Shhhh!” Delaney cried.

  Ali pressed her lips together and listened to the voice coming from the radio.

  “I’m telling you, folks. These lemon coconut cupcakes were the most divine thing I’ve tasted in my entire life,” he was saying.

  Ali couldn’t believe it. Was he talking about her lemon coconut cupcakes? Her eyes widened as she focused on the voice. Everything else blurred into the background.

  “The name of the bakery again is Seaside Sweets,” Mr. Positive’s voice crackled out. “And it’s just opened up on the boardwalk in Willow Bay. Well worth a trip, and the well-deserving winner of this weekend’s Randy Recommends! Now, over to Sheila for the news.”

  As the female radio host began her news report Ali turned, stunned, to face the others.

  Her mouth hung open with surprise. She’d served a cupcake to a local radio host, who’d recommended her to his audience! She could hardly process it.

  Teddy and Nate looked fittingly impressed that Ali had earned herself a shout out from the local radio host, but Delaney’s expression was so much more than that. She was thrilled, excited, bordering on manic. She grabbed Ali’s hand, squeezing it tightly.