“You think so?” Sam asked, drawing her yellow-blonde hair from her face as the breeze whipped it around.
“I know so.” But the fact that the reports were so vicious and damning told me that solving this case had to take top priority. There had been a struggle in the kitchen, according to the paper. Did that mean that the attacker might have pulled the engagement ring off?
Perhaps it had been an accident. Or perhaps the crime had been motivated out of a lust for money. That pointed back to Richard again. Richard was tall. But so was Jessie. And William. But what if it had been none of them and instead had been an outside attacker? What about the redhead we’d seen arguing with Honey only a day or two before the murder?
“Are you all right, Ruby?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry the reporter wrote that about you and Bee. Nothing could be further from the truth,” Sam said. “I’m a good judge of character, and I know you two wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone. Ever.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t need the comfort, but she was such a sweetheart. And Trouble purring and settling in my lap brought a sense of warmth too.
What about Bee?
Therein lay another mystery. Gosh, I had been so sure I’d be rid of the hunt for truth when I’d bought my food truck and started revamping it. And, now, I was on the road with my friend, and mystery had followed us all the way to another state.
“I’m going to fix myself a cup of coffee and some cookies. Would you like some?” Sam asked.
“That would be great, thank you.”
She left me with Trouble. At least Sam seemed happier than she had when she’d come out onto the back deck.
The afternoon had worn on, and the sky had grown dull with gray clouds, thick with coming rain. A lone figure appeared on the sandy path leading through the bushes. Richard strode toward the back of the guesthouse, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He grinned at me and nodded then ducked inside trailing the odor of cigarette smoke.
Was it a coincidence that he had taken a different path back to the Oceanside? And what had that grin meant? Did he know we’d followed him?
Samantha returned with the cookies and coffee, and I dismissed the thoughts for now.
13
“If that’s not a hit piece of an article, I’ve never seen one,” Bee said, her legs crossed and one of her fluffy bunny-ear slippers dangling from the tips of her toes. “Seriously. How were we involved in the last murder? That makes it sounds like we should be charged for it, not like we helped solve it.”
It was after dinner, and I had tactfully avoided talking about our run-in with the bearded guy earlier. There were more important things to discuss. Like Richard’s walking routes, the article, and the victim herself.
“But it’s interesting, don’t you think?” I lifted my mug of coffee and took a sip. “What they said about the struggle. If only we knew who she struggled with. From what we’ve heard, she wasn’t well-liked.”
“Hmm, true.” Bee folded the paper and tossed it aside, lifting her mug to her lips after. “Here’s our problem,” she said, “we don’t know enough about the victim to warrant a true suspect list. We know that Richard and Jessie were fighting. Richard had motivation. William has been absolutely silent for days, and Jessie is visibly distraught. Those are our only suspects.”
“And the wedding planner.”
“Right. But if Honey was so hated, there might be suspects we’re missing.”
I thought it over. Trouble poked his head around the bathroom door and meowed at me. He had a knack for squeezing through nooks and crannies, as most cats did. Even when I was sure I’d closed every window, he found a way into my room, and thus Bee’s too, since they were connected by a shared bathroom.
“Here, Trouble,” I said.
“Oh, well, now you’re just asking for it.” Bee laughed.
Trouble hopped onto the arm of the chair, and I stroked him, eliciting a few purrs and a scratch.
“Let’s research Honey,” I said. “I’ve heard twice now that she’s an Instagram model. She can’t be too hard to find online. Maybe we’ll find articles about her or more information that could lead us to a suspect.”
“Good idea.”
I brought out my phone and shifted to the chair next to Bee’s so she’d be able to see my screen. It took about two seconds of searching to find Honey’s account and the countless photos that skirted the line of inappropriate.
“Good heavens,” Bee said, shading her eyes. “I’m not a prude, but that’s just … is that a flesh-colored bikini?”
“Let’s hope so,” I replied, skipping through the images. I frowned, slowing as I scrolled upward again. One of the most recent pictures, right at the top of her profile, was different from the others. “What’s this?”
“Do I want to know? Is it a flesh-colored dress?”
“No,” I said, “and I believe the correct term is ‘nude.’”
“That’s serendipitous. Or ironic. I can’t decide which.”
“It’s one of those open-letter posts,” I said, clicking on the image. It was basically a block of text that Honey had written up on her notepad. She’d snapped a screenshot of it and uploaded it for her followers to view. “Don’t worry, you can look.”
Bee peeked out from behind her fingers. “Ah, that’s better. The purity of the written word.”
“Don’t be too hasty. We don’t know what she’s written about.”
Bee pinched my arm. “Don’t tease me.”
We hunched over to read the words on the picture.
I have, like, never been so angry in my whole entire life. You guys don’t even understand. So, I hired the best, like, literally the best—
“This is painful to read,” Bee said, leaning back in her chair. “Give me the CliffsNotes.”
I scanned the text. “Wow.”
“What?”
“It’s about the wedding planner.”
“Oh really?” Bee sat forward again. Trouble meowed at us from the other chair, where he’d seated himself like a king in a throne room filled with his subjects.
“Yes. Apparently, the wedding planner is an expensive and popular professional from Los Angeles. Her name is Gina Josephs. Honey tagged her in the picture and everything.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“Basically, that she linked the image with Gina’s profile.”
“OK. So what did she say about her?” Bee asked.
“It’s a flaming takedown of this Gina woman. Apparently, Honey expected more than what she got from the wedding planner. And she’s saying that Gina stole money from her by charging a fee at the beginning of the job and that now that Honey’s fired her, Gina doesn’t want to give the deposit back or something. I don’t know, it’s quite garbled.” I paused. “But she ends the post by saying none of her two million followers should ever use Gina’s service.”
“So,” Bee said, “you’re telling me that two million people follow this woman who poses in ‘nude’ bikinis and dresses?”
“That’s the part you find shocking?”
“The whole thing is beyond the pale,” she replied. “But it definitely gives us another suspect for our list. What if this Gina woman, the redhead, has to be, what if she decided to kill Honey for her money?”
“Honey for her money,” I said. “That rhymes.”
“Not with murder, though. Is it enough motivation?”
“No idea. I’m not an expert by any stretch of the imagination. Do you think we should tell Jones about this? You know, fill him in on what we’ve found?”
“And endure his deadpan stare and body odor?” Bee asked. “I think not.”
“He didn’t smell that bad the last time we spoke to him.”
“Like a diaper barge under a noon sun off the coast of Florida,” Bee replied.
“There’s an image.” But the clue was there. This wedding planner had been arguing with Honey only the day before. And she wa
sn’t staying in the guesthouse, as far as I knew. We certainly hadn’t seen her at lunches or dinners. But then, William hadn’t been around lately either. Understandable since he was in mourning.
“We’ll have to find out more about this woman,” Bee said. “Where she’s staying and so on.”
“If she’s still here. Why would she hang around after being fired by Honey?” I asked.
“Interesting point.” Bee stifled a yawn, setting her coffee to one side. “This coffee has tired me out.” She was convinced that coffee didn’t keep her awake but made her sleepy. It had to be some kind of placebo effect, because I was far too buzzed to be tired.
“Right,” I said. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep tight.”
“Don’t let the murderers bite.” Bee guffawed. “Sorry. I’ve always had a strange sense of humor.”
I waved goodbye and exited the room, Trouble chasing after me. Sam didn’t seem to mind when Trouble spent time with the guests. She said he was just as good a judge of character as she was, and he only liked people he trusted.
It was a nice thought that accompanied me into my room. The windows were locked tight, the curtains drawn, and my bed warm from the heated blanket I’d switched on before I’d popped into Bee’s room. I shut it off now and sat on the edge of my bed, contemplating my phone.
I wasn’t tired in the slightest. The thought of what might have happened to mean Honey dribbled through my mind. Don’t worry, Honey, we’ll find out who did this to you. And then maybe the folks in this town would start paying attention to the food truck at last.
14
I’d hardly gotten a wink of sleep after the coffee the night before, but I was up early regardless. The crack of dawn is what Bee would’ve called it, all while grumbling and flopping around in her slippers until, eventually, I told her she could come down later.
I didn’t even bother waking her anymore. Bee was too good of a baker for me to be worried much by what hour she woke, particularly since she was usually up before seven ready to get the baking started.
As long as we were ready by the time we needed to serve customers, why worry? Except, nowadays, there weren’t customers to serve. But today would be different. I’d open the truck, and, hopefully, Millie’s food critic would come by to try our cakes.
I contemplated that fact, and the discovery of the wedding planner’s dismissal on Honey’s profile, while I made myself a morning cup of coffee. Or rather, a 5:00 am cup of coffee. I had had trouble sleeping ever since Daniel had left. If that was the correct term for it.
It wasn’t even like he was on my mind. I just couldn’t relax enough to fall asleep. There were so many unanswered questions. Why hadn’t he just told me instead of—?
“Stop it,” I muttered, pouring a little too much sugar into my coffee. “There’s no reason to be thinking about that now.”
I sipped my coffee, choosing to stand by my window and look down on the dusk embracing the ocean below. A lone figure jogged along the sands, the moonlight casting the sliver of their shadow on the beach.
The beginnings of dawn appeared—a slight lightening along the horizon. Wouldn’t it be nice to live here permanently? I could imagine it … owning a little restaurant in town and liaising with the locals every day.
While it sounded great, it also gave me the itches. Staying in one place meant connecting with people and making friendships, perhaps even meeting a man. Settling down was not an option for me anymore.
I finished off my coffee and placed my mug next to the coffee station then grabbed my handbag and let myself out of the room.
The hall was quiet apart from the gentle shuffle of my footsteps on the old house’s floor. I ran my hand along the polished railing and took the stairs down to the bottom floor and into the hall. A step that definitely wasn’t my own sounded behind me.
Huh?
No one else was usually awake at this time of the morning.
The noise came again, and I searched for it in the darkened hall.
A figure stood near one of the doors to the bottom floor rooms. My throat closed, but I forced myself to remain calm. Just because someone was in the hall didn’t mean they were a murderer. They were right across from Richard’s room.
Just breathe and think, Ruby. Don’t panic this time.
I fished my phone out of my handbag and switched on the screen, directing it toward the person at the door. The blue light illuminated a woman who definitely didn’t belong in the guesthouse. A redhead.
It was the wedding planner! I recognized her from the beach the day before Honey’s murder.
She straightened, stumbling back at the sight of my phone.
“Hey,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
The redhead, Gina Josephs, folded her arms. “I’m not the one snooping around in the middle of the night,” she replied.
“I stay here. Do you?”
Gina hesitated.
“Then I’m not the one snooping, am I? I’m calling the police.”
“Good heavens,” she said. “There’s no need for that. I let myself in with a key.” She lifted it out of her pocket. “Jessie gave it to me.”
“Jessie?”
“Yeah, Jessie. She’s staying here? She was the maid of honor for a wedding I was organizing.”
The way she said it made it sound like she hadn’t been fired. But that couldn’t possibly be true. It was clear that Honey had made her decision. She’d even cried to us about it.
“You’re here to speak to Jessie at five in the morning?” I wasn’t convinced. “I’m still calling the cops.”
“Go ahead. It doesn’t bother me,” Gina replied, drawling the words. She touched a finger to her right ear. “I’ll tell them the same thing I’m about to tell you. That it’s none of your business why I’m here.”
I reached over and clicked the hall light on, casting her pale features into sharp relief. She squinted briefly. “It’s definitely my business,” I said, “since Honey was murdered, and there might still be a killer roaming around in town.”
“You’re afraid of a murderer?” Gina asked. “That’s so cute.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I hadn’t particularly liked Honey, but I had to agree with her assessment of Gina here. She was abrasive at best.
“It means that no one wants to murder you,” she said. “Nobody even knows who you are. But plenty of people knew Honey and disliked her.”
“We’re getting off-topic.” I could do this. I just had to stick to my guns. Or my cakes. Whatever. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
“Duh, I’m meeting Jessie?” Gina gestured to her clothing. She was outfitted in a pair of spandex shorts, a loose T-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. She reached up and tugged on her ear. “We’re supposed to be going for a run on the beach? We do this every morning. Not that it’s any of your business. Like… what a total intrusion on my privacy.”
“Sorry, but everyone’s jumpy around here.”
“Whatever. I’m going to wait outside. I don’t have time for this.” Gina brushed past me and made her way toward the front of the guesthouse.
What a pleasant woman. No wonder she and Honey didn’t get along. They were cut from the same cloth.
The front door slammed a second later, and I exhaled slowly. I switched off my flashlight app but didn’t walk off, right away. I frowned at Richard’s door. I hadn’t known that Jessie went running with Gina. And I had never seen them go out at this time either—though, I hadn’t exactly been up as early every morning this week. And if Gina had been here for Jessie, why had she been outside Richard’s door?
Jessie hadn’t mentioned she was friends with Gina either. But why would she? It had never come up in conversation.
I shook my head. I had to admit that not everything was related to the case. But it was suspicious that the wedding planner who definitely had a motive was in the guesthouse at this hour, and, apparently, hanging out with Jessie. I’d have to remember
to ask Jessie about it later.
Right now, I needed to get out on the truck and start preparing it for the day.
We’d spent too much time worrying about the murder and too little serving food on the beachfront. Today would be the day we got back on track. I felt it in my bones. Or maybe that was the cold.
I stepped out and smiled at those hints of sunlight on the horizon. The street outside was shrouded in pre-dawn gray, and the wedding planner was nowhere to be seen.
“Come on, Ruby, focus,” I murmured and headed for the food truck, its candy pink and green stripes beckoning to me.
15
By eight, we were parked out on the beachfront with our display cases stacked full of delicious cupcakes and treats and two pots of coffee brewing behind us. One was decaf and the other normal espresso, a strong aromatic bean that filled the inside of the truck with the scent of a warm welcome to another morning in Carmel Springs.
Bee had prepared a spiced pumpkin puree with almond milk, and I’d chalked in pumpkin-spiced lattes on the specials board on the back wall, as well as on the clapboard we placed out next to the truck each morning.
If pumpkin-spiced lattes didn’t bring in the crowds, I didn’t know what would.
“Hmm.” Bee checked on another batch of cupcakes baking in the oven. “Hmm.”
“What is it? The cupcakes aren’t rising?”
Bee laughed. “No, of course they are. I was just thinking about what you told me.”
“About Gina?” I asked, lowering my voice, though there was no one around to hear except for the wind, the seagulls, and the cold, gray ocean this morning.
“Exactly that. Interesting that she was in the guesthouse. Hovering around. Hmm.”
“You think she might have been involved?” I asked.
“We can’t be sure, but she definitely had a motive. But then, why would she have been snooping around the guesthouse?”
“She was standing in front of Richard’s door.” I had too many questions and no answers. We didn’t know enough about Jessie or Gina to make any deductions just yet. “I think we need to do more research on those two if we’re going to figure out who—”
The Bite-Sized Bakery Cozy Mysteries Box Set Page 14