Ooey Gooey Bakery Mystery Box Set

by Katherine H Brown

  “Horrible idea,” Sam’s short whisper sounded harsh and she cut her eyes at me, crossing her arms over her chest.

  I raised my shoulders in an apologetic shrug.

  Sam dropped her arms and plastered a smile on her face. Knowing she wouldn’t be letting go that easy, I looked behind me. A thin Asian woman with a smooth face and tight smile approached from the hallway.

  “We help you?” she asked, her accent making the words come out in quick clips.

  I nodded. “We came here looking for someone,” I told him.

  “You both want massage?” she pointed back and forth to us.

  “No, no thank you,” I shook my head.

  “Who massage? You?” she asked, her lips pursed.

  I shook my head no. “No. You don’t understand…” I tried again but again he interrupted.

  “You massage.” She smiled at Sam as if figuring it out. “Follow me.” With that she turned and led the way down a narrow hall, not looking back to see if we were coming.

  I grimaced at Sam and tugged her down the hall, nearly trotting to catch up to the woman ahead of us. We passed two doors locked with padlocks as we went.

  “I’m going to kill you,” Sam ground out between her teeth.

  “Don’t say that, we have enough dead bodies.”

  “Fine. I’ll…I’ll do something to make you regret this day, just as soon as I think of it.”

  “But look,” I tried to pacify her, “you get a nice massage. I’ll even pay for it.”

  She simply glared.

  Oh brother, I’m gonna get it.

  We stopped at a door on the left of the hallway. The woman opened it and ushered us inside. “You wait,” she said, then quick as lightning exited and shut the door on us.

  “Awk-ward,” I sing-songed at Sam, standing next to the single massage table in the room. “Want me to turn around while you undress for your massage?” I snickered.

  “If you think for one minute I’m getting on that table for a massage in this health-code violating, foul-smelling, hole-in-the-wall joint, then you have lost your mind.”

  I laughed out loud, couldn’t help it, the indignant look on her face, complete with upper lip curled in disgust, proved too much for me to hold it together. “You sound like Deidra,” I cracked up then put a hand to my mouth. Oops, now she might really kill me.

  “I do not sound like my mother,” Sam argued. “She would never approve of the use of the word ‘joint’ in a sentence.” As we stood looking at each other, me smothering a laugh and Sam trying to remain angry, a smile tugged lightly at the corners of her lips. The absurdity of the situation won out; Sam covered her mouth to stifle her own laughter.

  Two soft raps on the door preceded the entry of a much younger Asian girl with hair dyed a golden-caramel color. I couldn’t believe she worked here; if asked to guess, I would have pegged her as sixteen or seventeen years old.

  “Hello!” she greeted us with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Who is here for the massage?” Her English was excellent and hardly a trace of accent could be heard.

  “Neither,” I said. “We’d really like to talk about a friend of ours.”

  The smile disappeared. “I’m sorry. No massage, I have to go,” she backed up.

  “We will still pay for your time,” Sam assured, causing the girl to hesitate.

  “Our friend, he came here late last night. We think he might be in some trouble.” I met the girl’s eyes as I spoke in a low, soft voice. I hoped to put her at ease; right now, she resembled a frightened rabbit, poised to bounce at the first sign of danger.

  “I didn’t work last night,” she glanced to the door and back to us, still unsure.

  “Okay, no problem,” Sam said. “Could you tell us someone who did?”

  “Mamasan,” the girl whispered. “Mamasan is always here. And I think last night would have been Red and Coco on shift.”

  I darted a glance at Sam; she raised her eyebrows.

  “Coco?” I asked. A bad feeling swirled in the pit of my stomach and I found myself leaning toward the girl, on the edge of my seat.

  “Yes. But Coco isn’t here today. I think Red might be here later. I don’t know if she would talk to you.”

  “What’s your name?” Sam asked.

  “You can call me BeeBee,” she refused to meet our eyes.

  “BeeBee,” I swallowed past the tightness in my throat. “Can you tell me what Coco looks like?”

  The air-conditioner chose that moment to kick on, the loud noise as it struggled to run causing Sam and I to jump. BeeBee, I noticed, flinched and closed her eyes, making herself smaller for just a moment before she gave a slight shake and relaxed.

  “Sure, yeah. Coco is beautiful, tiny, gorgeous black hair, this perfect pert little nose.” BeeBee tugged at the hem of her shirt. “Listen, my boss is gonna be mad if I’m not working.”

  “BeeBee,” Sam spoke with sadness. “Coco was found dead this morning.”

  “Dead?” All of the color drained from BeeBee’s face. She wrapped her arms around herself in a hug, trying to insulate herself from the news. “No, she can’t be dead. She can’t be. I told her not to leave.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  BeeBee narrowed her eyes. Her voice came out a harsh whisper and she moved closer to us, glancing over her shoulder at the door. “You said you came to ask about your friend. Now you say Coco is dead. I don’t believe it. What does this have to do with your friend? Why are you really here?”

  “Like I said, our friend came here last night. We saw him enter after the open sign had been switched off,” I explained. “Today, a woman’s body turned up on the beach. The same woman had been in an argument with someone at The Cove’s Cabins earlier in the day. Our friend Landon, when he saw the body, he got upset and said the name Coco before taking off.”

  “Wait,” BeeBee held her hand up for me to stop. “You said your friend’s name is Landon?”

  “Yes,” I nodded.

  “Do you know him?” Sam asked, gripping the arm of her chair.

  “Maybe. Kind, handsome, sandy hair?” BeeBee looked at us. At our fervent nodding she went on, “Yes, Landon came here often. He was a,” she looked upward as if searching the ceiling for a word. “Special client. Yes, he was a special client,” she smiled and this time her face softened.

  I gasped, shocked and full of discomfort. ATMs. Open after dark to “special clients”. Gorgeous girls taking shifts. The overkill locks on the doors. Everything slid into place. We were in a cleverly disguised brothel!

  Sam covered her mouth with both hands.

  “No!” BeeBee shook her head, waving her hands back and forth. “No, he was not a happy ending client,” BeeBee clarified.

  Well, I thought, now we know the nature of service the Thai Massage does indeed provide. I shuddered.

  “What kind of client was he then?” I dug my fingernails into my palms, unsure I wanted the answer but needing to know it regardless.

  “Landon brought gifts. He tried to help us, help the girls. He did not come for any massages.”

  Chapter 18

  “Okay then.” I said, sliding into the driver’s seat of my truck and locking the door. We both sat in silence a few moments, absorbing the basics of what BeeBee had been able to tell us.

  “That proved to be informative,” Sam said at last.

  “Are you admitting that I had a good idea?” I clutched at my heart, feigning shock.

  “Nope.” Sam shook her head. “I’m just saying that maybe it is good we found out more before mentioning our concerns about Landon to the police.”

  “I’m glad we were wrong about him. I feel terrible that I suspected him of being involved in illegal activities, and all because we saw him go there after closing hours then I found that tube of lipstick.”

  “You couldn’t have known the phone number on the lipstick would be a hotline to help women who wanted to escape from the life of prostitution, dancing, or sex tr
afficking organizations,” Sam pointed out reasonably.

  “True. I’m so glad to know Breaking Chains cares about the victims and provides resources and shelter to get those out who need help and have nowhere to go.”

  “And I’m relieved to know it is part of Landon’s job to visit the bars, sport clubs, and massage houses suspected of trafficking every month,” Sam admitted. “I really enjoyed hanging out with him for volleyball and was really upset when we thought he came here as a client and maybe even hurt that poor Coco girl on the beach.”

  “Speaking of which, none of this explains why Landon ran off so fast when her body washed up,” I cranked the truck. “I hope he turns up so we can talk to him. Right now, we have to get back in time to make desserts for after supper, assuming the retreat is still going the rest of the weekend.”

  “Right.” Sam pulled out her phone. “I think that I’ll just check in on Gladys and the girls one more time while you drive.”

  “Nervous?” I shot a sideways look to Sam but she held up a finger. Gladys had answered the phone.

  “Hey, Gladys.” Sam’s smile stretched. “Piper and I were checking in. How are things?”

  I turned the radio off. Drat. Still unable to hear Gladys’s side of the conversation, I drove quietly and waited.

  Hanging up, Sam put the phone back in her purse. “The firemen were back.”

  “What?!” My heart skittered in my chest. I started to pull over.

  “For cookies. The firemen were back for cookies.” Sam had the grace to look guilty. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

  I breathed easier again. “I’m not sure we should cater weekend events in the future. My heart might not be able to take it.”

  ~

  Parking by the main office on our return to The Cove’s Cabins, I grabbed the grocery sack of powdered sugar and butter out of the back seat. Sam had remembered we were running low, and we ended up with just enough time to buy them and still get back by four.

  Roy and his golf cart were nowhere to be seen so we set out on foot down the path toward the dining cabin. Here and there we passed small groups of people walking. Others sat on porches of the residential cabins, talking in low voices as we passed by.

  We rounded the last curve of the path and I stopped short. Bright yellow crime scene tape hung in a crisp, straight line blocked our entrance to the dining cabin and the kitchen. Honestly, I guess I should have seen that coming; instead, it took my breath away. The body. Both bodies, terrible as they were, hadn’t hit me as hard as this bright yellow beacon screaming to the world that death had been here, that evil snuck in and snuck out in the dark storm and left the rest of us to deal with the mess.

  “Now what?” Sam asked.

  I barely registered the sound of footsteps before someone collided into me from behind. I stumbled forward as several hands steadied me, Sam’s and those of the woman who had nearly knocked me down.

  “I’m terribly sorry!” The woman patted me down as if to ensure she hadn’t broken me. “I was looking at the ocean when I jogged around the corner.”

  Taking a step back, I waved off her concern. “It’s okay. We shouldn’t have stopped in the middle of the path.” I searched my memory for why she looked familiar. That’s right, she’s the Dark Chocolate Chip pancake lady, the one with the tight bun in her hair. I hadn’t recognized her because now she looked disheveled and distracted as opposed to the poised figure she had presented at breakfast. I racked my brain for a name. Regina!

  “No. It is my fault; I should pay more attention,” Regina said.

  Just then the chaplain also came upon our little group. “It’s the delicious dessert ladies!” he exclaimed, shaking first Sam’s hand and then mine, pumping so hard I nearly dropped the bag of groceries.

  My phone rang then, interrupting, and I glanced at the screen. Gladys’s name blinked on the caller ID. “I really need to take this,” I apologized to Regina and the chaplain. I took a few steps away, the grocery sack now dangling from my elbow and bouncing off my hip.

  “Hello,” I answered the phone.

  “Piper, hi dearie,” Gladys chirped, cheerful as ever. “Listen, I hate to bother you but Millie has an art project due Monday and not very much time to work on it since she’s working here.”

  “Does she need time off?” I asked.

  Sam walked toward me; Regina continued her jog going off the path and further into the dunes. I must have missed the chaplain taking his leave.

  “Actually, I told her you probably wouldn’t mind at all if she did her homework on the tables here in the café,” Gladys explained. “She insisted I call and get your permission though.”

  “Sure, sure. I don’t mind if she does her homework,” I became distracted from the conversation when I noticed Officer Grumpy, I mean Campbell, making his way toward us. His scowl seemed deeper than ever.

  “Piper Rivers and Samantha Lowe?” he asked. Two deputies broke from his shadow and flanked us.

  “Gladys,” I said. “I think I’m going to have to let you go.” I hung up the phone without waiting to see if she heard me.

  “How can we help you officer?” Sam asked with a smile.

  Officer Campbell’s features did not warm. Instead, he narrowed his eyes. “Did you two leave The Cove’s Cabins this afternoon?”

  “Yes, but only to check on some things about our friend Landon,” Sam nodded.

  Inwardly I groaned. It had been made very clear everyone should stay put. Why did I let my curiosity impact my decision?

  “Landon Oliver?” one deputy asked, receiving a glare from Officer Campbell.

  “Yes,” I answered. How did they know Landon’s name? I wondered. Did he come back?

  “What’s in the bag?” Officer Campbell pointed.

  I looked down at the now-forgotten grocery bag. “This? Just a few ingredients for baking that we stopped to pick up.”

  “Mind if my deputy has a look?”

  “Not at all,” I shrugged. Maybe once they’ve finished harassing Sam and me the lovely officers can move on to catching a killer, I thought punitively.

  Taking the bag from me, the deputy knelt and shook it empty on the ground.

  “Hey!” I moved toward him. “My butter is going to have dirt in it.”

  “Sir,” the deputy ignored me. “Look at this,” he said. He slid his hands into gloves and then held up a small black cylinder, almost like an old-fashioned film canister, and opened the lid.

  Officer Campbell sniffed and raised his eyebrows. The deputy nodded.

  I looked at Sam; she shrugged, as much in the dark about what was going on as me.

  Officer Campbell caught me unaware while I puzzled over the deputy and the canister. Wrenching my arms behind my back he said, “Piper Rivers, you are under the arrest for the murder of Arthur Cole.”

  Chapter 19

  “Arrest?” I shrieked. The cuffs cinched tightly against my wrists.

  “What in the world for?” Sam threw her arms up. “Piper didn’t murder anyone, that’s absurd.”

  “Get out of the way, lady,” Officer Campbell growled at Sam. “If you don’t pipe down, I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice in regards to a murder investigation.”

  “You have yet to see obstruction,” Sam pulled herself up ramrod straight. “But I guarantee you’re about to.” Her normal pleasant smile disappeared, replaced by more of a wicked grin that promised no good things. Shoot, her look had me worried and she was on my side.

  “Do you want me to stop her?” the deputy on my left asked the sheriff. Sam stomped toward the Main Office and the road, phone to her ear before she disappeared from sight.

  “Nah. What’s Miss Priss gonna do, she has to stay put like everyone else.”

  I shook my head. He had no idea how determined Sam could be.

  ~

  The ride to my new accommodations at the Pierson County Sheriff’s Department hadn’t taken long. Jostling around, hands bound behind me and rubbing
all manner of stickiness on the seat, bracing myself to bang against the window at any moment, the ride had been unpleasant to say the least. Beyond that, I became frustrated when all attempts to reason with or ask questions of the officer or his deputy were met with stony silence. When at last we arrived, I felt relief to be freed from the tight space of the car. The feeling didn’t last.

  I had no idea how long I’d been in this disgusting pit of a room but it certainly felt like an eternity. I scrunched my nose in distaste. The stench. The overwhelming smell of stale vomit, ammonia, and cleaning products that didn’t quite get the job done. I’m pretty sure my nostrils might be singed and I wished desperately for the smell of fresh cookies instead. Like Dorothy in Oz, I closed my eyes and thought to myself I’ll be out soon, I’ll be out soon, I’ll be out soon. With no ruby slippers to click, I found myself on the same concrete bench jutting out from the wall.

  The woman next to me, busty and leaving nothing to the imagination, sneezed without covering her nose or mouth. I inched further away.

  I supposed the fact that I’m still sitting in a holding cell is good. I haven’t been booked, yet, so there is still time for the police to realize they’ve made a mistake and let me go. God, please get me out of here, please! Lord, you know I didn’t kill anyone. Please let this all be a bad dream.

  A pixie-haired woman old enough to be my grandmother padded to the holding cell and crooked a finger at me. “Rivers,” she drawled.

  Or not. My heart plummeted. This is it. They’re locking me up, throwing away the key. I’ll never sleep in my bed again. Never eat another fresh, masterfully creative cookie again. I flinched at the painful thought. Maybe I could beg my way into the jail kitchen as a line cook. No, there has to be a way out.

  “Ma’am,” I said to the older woman as I side-stepped a pretty angry looking teen and skirted around the woman passed out in the floor, stringy purple hair fanned out around her, drool mingling with Lord knows what other fluids on this floor as they seeped downhill toward the drain in the center of the room.

  “Ma’am, I think there has been a mistake,” I said as I stepped out of the cell into a narrow corridor.