The Bite-Sized Bakery Cozy Mysteries Box Set

by Rosie A. Point

  “It was him,” I said. “It has to be. He had access to everyone. He threatened Lori. Maybe he wanted the money from the life insurance policy. Could that be who she was talking to on the phone?”

  “That makes sense. And she called off the date with him. He was blackmailing her. Maybe he knows something about her that we don’t?”

  The loud clap, clap, clap started up from the living room door, and I let out a squeak. Bee did drop the phone this time.

  Joseph strode into the room, a broad smile on his handsome face, and a pair of pink stiletto heels on his feet. It took me a second to register what I was seeing. “Well done, ladies. You’ve solved it. That’s brilliant and really unfortunate for you. Because, now, I’ll have to kill you too.”

  “How—when?” I blathered.

  “I saw you at Sarah’s house. I knew you were interfering in the case, and I followed you here,” he replied. “Simple. So simple, it’s dumb. Did you seriously think I didn’t know what you were up to? Sarah told me her shoes were missing last night. The idiot had no idea that one of them had been missing for over a week. Unfortunately, she had an alibi, or my plan would have worked.”

  My heart leaped. “You wanted to frame her. That’s why you wore the shoes. And why you’re wearing them right now.”

  “Bingo.” Joseph clicked his fingers and pointed at me. “This time, though, she won’t have an alibi. She’s passed out at home, on the sofa. Too much wine in the middle of the day, poor old girl.”

  “Old.” Bee stiffened. “You… how dare you.”

  “It’s much easier to take advantage of old women when you look like me. They seem to lose their minds.” He twirled a finger next to his temple. “Lori wasn’t as easy to toy with. She didn’t want to give me what I needed.”

  “And what was that?” I glanced at the phone where Bee had dropped it. If we could only get to it and call 911, we might have a shot here. Hopefully, Bee was thinking in the same vein.

  “Everything Brent had,” he replied. “His wife. His money. His life.” Joseph’s handsome face folded into a cruel caricature. “Ever since I moved to this darn town, he’s been trying to out-do me. Acting like he’s better than me. Well, he paid for that. He paid for that, and Lori paid for that too. Two people dead, and they have no idea who did it. It was almost too easy.”

  He thought Lori was dead.

  Joseph turned his back and strode toward the array of guns mounted on the wall. I gestured to Bee, and she snatched up the phone quickly and unlocked it. She dialed the number 911 then put the phone back down on the ground.

  It took all of a few seconds but I didn’t breathe for any of it.

  Joseph had taken a gun down and turned to face us, the barrel pointed at my chest.

  “What about Lori’s money?” I said, quickly. “You won’t get any of it, now.”

  “I don’t need her money anymore. I got what I wanted from Sarah’s prize-winnings. I’ll blow town and that will be the end of it. I’ll find some place where people understand the value of a good gardener. But not before I kill you two and that idiot Rose-Marie. She’ll get exactly what she deserves.”

  “You can’t shoot us here,” Bee said, loudly. “Everyone on Lavender Road will here. They know that Lori was attacked, they’ll all come running.”

  “I’ll be out of here before anyone runs anywhere,” he said, shifting in Sarah’s pink stilettos. He looked ridiculous, though they did compliment his calves.

  “Wait, Joseph,” I said, lifting my hands. “There’s something you have to know before you do anything else.”

  “Oh yeah?” He arched an eyebrow, shifting the hunting rifle against his arm. “What’s that?”

  I searched around for something that would shock the shoes off of him. “Lori’s not dead,” I said. “Lori is alive and well in hospital.”

  Joseph’s expression grew still. The arched eyebrow remained where it was, but he’d checked out. I didn’t dare say another word in case I started him and he fired off a round. The gun was still aimed at my torso.

  “You’re lying,” he snarled, after a minute. “She’s dead. I know she is.”

  “She’s alive,” Bee said. “And awake. She’ll tell the police everything she knows. So, even if you kill us, you’re going to prison. They’ll hunt you down.”

  “Your best option is probably to run now, before they come.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance, as if on cue. They were from an ambulance, though, not the staccato rhythm of Detective Wilke’s police car’s siren.

  Joseph blinked rapidly. He lifted the gun, lowered it, and then lifted it again. His teeth appeared, perfectly white and pressed against each other as he grimaced at me. “You’ll pay for this. You will pay.” He dropped the rifle, kicked off his high heel shoes, and ran out of the living room.

  “After him,” Bee said. “If we can tackle him to the ground, we might be able to hold him until Wilkes gets here.”

  I sprinted out into the hallway and spun toward the front door. But it was too late. At least, for us to tackle anyone.

  Detective Wilkes had Joseph Barnes on his stomach in the dirt outside, his hands already cuffed behind his back. The police officer caught our gaze but only gave a slight shake of his head. And that was it. Another case solved, another murderer on the way to prison, now all we had to do was hope that the town would forgive us for stealing Sarah’s shoes.

  19

  It was a perfect, spring day in the park, and the two long lines winding from the front of the food truck told me everything I needed to know about how the news of Joseph’s capture had been received. People thought we were innocent again. They wanted to buy our treats and enjoy them.

  Only two days had passed, and another few long sessions of questioning by the police, and we were cleared of any suspicion. Lori had woken in hospital just after we’d arrived at her home, it seemed, and croaked out that Joseph was the one to have attacked her.

  The only question was why she hadn’t said anything about his threats sooner.

  “Here you go,” I said, handing Amy Bartlett, one of our regulars, her choc-chip cookie. “Enjoy it!”

  Amy flashed me an appreciative grin. “Keep the change, hon. You deserve it after what you went through this week.”

  “Thanks, Amy!”

  She hurried off, and Bee nudged me. “See? All worth it in the end.”

  “I don’t know what I was worried about,” I replied. “I guess, I just didn’t want our time here to end too quickly.” That and I had issues with how things had happened in the past. But those were thoughts for another time. Now, we had all the customers we could deal with, and joy threaded through my thoughts.

  The next customer in line stepped up, and I sucked in a breath.

  “Lori!” I said. “How are you?”

  She still had her crutches, of course, but now, had a massive knot on the front of her head. She gave me a sheepish grin. “Hi, Ruby. Do you mind if I talk to you for a second. You or Bee?”

  “I’ll take care of the truck,” Bee said, as she handed a customer their change. “You two talk.”

  “Right. Sure.” I grabbed two cookies and put them into brown paper bags, then hurried to the side door of the food truck and let myself out. The sunshine was bright, and I slipped a pair of sunglasses out of the front pocket of my apron and slid them onto my face.

  The added advantage was that I could study Lori without her knowing. There were still a few unanswered questions, and, happy or not, my inquisitive nature insisted I find out the answers to them.

  Lori met me next to the truck, and we walked off toward the duck pond together, a few people turning to watch as we passed. Whispers started up, but I ignored them. People were bound to talk after everything that had happened.

  Lori had grown proficient with the crutches and hopped along at a good pace until we reached a bench under the trees. She lowered herself onto it and accepted a cookie from me.

  “It’s good to see you again,” I
said. “We were worried.”

  “Thank you.” Lori took a bite of her cookie and made an appreciative noise. “This is delicious as usual.”

  “It’s all Bee,” I replied.

  “Listen, Ruby, I—I wanted to say thank you for everything you two did,” she replied. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to tell the police who had attacked me if not for you. I just… I thought maybe you two were in danger and that I had caused it and I couldn’t just let you—you know.”

  “It all worked out in the end,” I said. “That’s what mattered. I have to admit, I am curious, though. Why didn’t you tell anyone about Joseph and his threats sooner?”

  Lori gnawed on her cookie. She took her time, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment then opening them again. “I was afraid. Joseph knew the truth about me and I didn’t want it to get out. I thought the police would blame me for what happened to Brent. I just… I was having affair. It wasn’t Brent. It was me.”

  “Oh. I see. But you told us about Sarah.”

  “Yes, because I knew that Joseph was dating her too,” Lori said, bowing her head. “I got involved with Joseph before Brent’s death, but I soon realized that he wasn’t a good person. He started threatening me when I got cold feet about the relationship. And then Brent died, and he told me that if I didn’t keep my mouth shut and give him what he wanted, both a relationship with me and the money from the life insurance policy, then I would regret it.”

  “That’s terrible.” I patted her on the arm.

  A gentle breeze swept through the park and tugged at the ends of my apron strings, hanging over the edge of the park bench. It was such an idyllic day, with blue skies and puffy white clouds, it was hard to imagine that the events of the past week had been possible.

  “I thought he would report me to the police and try to frame me, not kill me.” Lori took another bite of her cookie and chewed faster, as if saying the words out loud had brought her appetite back. “I’m sorry I lied to you both, and that any of this happened.”

  “You don’t need to apologize, Lori. It’s over now, and life in Muffin can get back to normal. Relatively speaking. How are you holding up regarding Brent?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, slowly. “I think it’s finally starting to sink in that he’s really gone. I cried all night last night, but I think that… it will get easier over time.”

  I couldn’t speak to that, but at least she was safe now.

  My gaze turned toward the Bite-sized Bakery food truck and the long lines in front of it, and a smile parted my lips. Whatever happened, whatever came, I would always have the food truck, my bestie, Bee, and the times we’d spent solving crimes together.

  I took a massive bite of my cookie and let the sweetness spread across my tongue. Today was a good day. And I couldn’t wait to find out what tomorrow would hold.

  Ruby and Bee’s adventures will continue in book 8 of A Bite-Sized Bakery Cozy Mystery Series, Macarons and Murder, coming in April! Turn the page for an exclusive offer.

  Book 8: Macarons and Murder

  1

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” I peered at the tall trees surrounding us and the dirt road ahead, my hands on the food truck’s steering wheel. “I don’t see any signs.”

  “That’s what the GPS says,” Bee replied, tapping on its screen. “See? Right there. It says, ‘Tomahawk Trail Campground.’ It’s meant to be right down this road.”

  I kept the truck’s engine running but didn’t inch it forward onto the road. It was a sunny spring day and we’d decided it was time to take a week off from selling our delicious baked goods in Muffin. We were officially on vacation—we’d bought our tents and supplies, found an old bookstore and stocked up our favorite novels. Except we weren’t on vacation until we found the campground, and call me a skeptic, but I wasn’t about to drive down a beaten trail in the woods… it sounded like the beginning to a horror movie. Or a true crime documentary.

  “I promise you, it’s down here,” Bee said. “No, that’s a lie, the GPS promises you.”

  I eyed the GPS. I wasn’t the best with technology, but I did trust Bee. Besides, my bestie was an ex-cop. If anyone gave us trouble, she’d kick some criminal rear-end.

  “If the GPS says it, it must be true.” I started the engine again and we trundled down the dirt path, the truck squeaking and bouncing. The forest was gorgeous—my anxiety waned thanks to the leafy green canopy and the shimmer of sunlight from the cloudless sky beyond it.

  A few curves in the road later and the entrance to the campground appeared, the wooden sign above it proudly announcing: Tomahawk Trail Campground. The sign had seen better days—it was weathered, and one side had dropped over the gates, which were open.

  “Ha!” Bee clapped her hands. “We found it.”

  “Or did it find us?” I muttered, still creeped out by the forest. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “This is exactly why we need a break. It’s all the murder that’s been going on. Murder in Maine, Murder in Massachusetts…”

  “Murder at Tomahawk Trail Campgrounds?” I grimaced as we cruised over the threshold and came to a halt in the parking lot in front of the office—a log-cabin styled building with a wraparound porch and a screen door.

  “Let’s hope not. Ruby, I’m sure everything will be fine. Remember this is a break from everything, that includes baking and highly illegal mystery investigations on our part. It’s meant to be relaxing. We’ll have fun and read, make some macarons and—”

  “Hey!” A giant of a man charged down the office’s steps toward us, sun gleaming on his bald head and catching on the thick gold chain hanging around his neck. He wore sweatpants and a stained vest. “Hey you!”

  I rolled down my window, too shocked by the ‘welcome’ to check Bee’s reaction. “Hello,” I said. “How are—?”

  “What are you doing here?” the man spat.

  “Camping for all intents and purposes,” Bee said. “Or having an argument, depending on how this conversation goes.”

  “No, no, no,” the guy replied, wiping sweat off his upper lip and pointing a finger at her. “I know what your type is like.”

  “What type is that?” My hackles rose.

  “The type who says they’ve come to stay but really, you’re here to bother my guests and try to sell them things. I’ve had enough of people like you so you can just—”

  The screen door opened, and a woman stepped out of the offices. She was the polar opposite of the aggressive dude—she had a head full of chestnut brown hair, wore a neat pair of jeans and a flowery blouse, and even offered an apologetic smile as she jogged down the stairs to join the fray.

  “Van,” she said.

  “No, it’s a truck,” I replied. “A food truck. And we weren’t going to sell anything.”

  “No.” The woman shook her head and pointed at the guy. “Van.”

  “Van?”

  “Van,” she repeated and tugged on the man’s arm. “Van, stop it. Leave them alone.”

  “Get off me, Charlene.” Van pulled himself free of her. “I’m not going to have another group of sleazebags take advantage of my hospitality.”

  “We’re not sleazebags,” I said. “We don’t want to sell anything. We just want some time off.”

  Bee looked about ready to punch the guy.

  “I’m so sorry about this, ladies,” Charlene said. “We’ve had some trouble with scammers in the past few months. It’s a touchy subject. Could you give us a few moments please?” She drew Van back up the steps.

  They argued with each other right there in front of us, Charlene pleading and Van red in the face.

  “What a disaster,” I said. “The minute we arrive we’re already unwanted.” The little knot of insecurity inside me—it had been there ever since my fiancé had left me—threatened to unravel.

  “Don’t take what that idiot has to say seriously. He’s clearly unhinged. The man’s wearing sweatpants and a gold chai
n, for heaven’s sake.”

  That brought a tiny smile out of me. “Still, that’s not the reception I expected. This place had good reviews.”

  Bee nodded. “Oh, here she comes.”

  Charlene had separated from the angry vest-wearing Van. She approached with a sheepish grin. “I’m so, so sorry about that,” she said. “He’s in a bad mood.” She forced a laugh, but there was a flash of something in her eyes. What was it? Anxiety? “Anyway, I’ve explained to him that you’re just here to check in.”

  “Who is he?” Bee asked. “And who are you?”

  “His name is Van Reed, and he’s the owner of the campgrounds,” she said. “I’m his wife, Charlene.”

  “Oh.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, belatedly.

  “And you.” She flicked her hair back, her smile more confident now. She had a lot of laugh lines. I liked that in a person. “Once again, my sincerest apologies. Van likes everything to go smoothly around here. But now that that’s out of the way, I can check you in! Did you book a lot?”

  “No,” Bee said.

  “Oh well, you’re very lucky indeed,” Charlene laughed. “We just so happen to have two spots open at the moment.”

  “Yes, we do feel lucky.” Bee’s dry tone wasn’t lost on Charlene. The hostess shifted on the spot.

  “Well, look, I don’t know if you planned on selling any of your food here but if you want to bake, you’re more than welcome to,” Charlene continued, casting a nervous glance at the office. “Just as long as you don’t sell. You know?”

  “Sure.” Honestly, I just wanted the conversation to be over already. We’d come to relax, not to be given the third degree by a man with an inordinate amount of chest hair.

  “You stay here, and I’ll be right back with all the forms and details you’ll need for your stay.”

  “Great. Thank you.”

  Charlene was already halfway up the stairs.