Ooey Gooey Bakery Mystery Box Set

by Katherine H Brown

  “I’m only pointing out that it isn’t exactly clandestine snooping material.”

  “Good point. I guess it might be time to change it. It has been worth it to see the pained expression on Mother’s face whenever I’m around though.”

  I laughed. Deidra Lowe had nearly fainted on the spot when Sam appeared on the courthouse lawn beside them on July Fourth. Deidra’s pallor had first gone ashy-white and then flushed a deep crimson. Sam’s father hadn’t even had time to say hello before Deidra shooed us out of the spotlight. So determined was she to send Sam away before the press arrived, that she nearly broke an ankle in a gopher hole rushing us away from the courthouse steps. I pity the poor gophers who called that lawn their home; Deidra had been on a crusade to capture and kill every gopher in a five-mile radius ever since.

  “Earth to Piper!” Sam spoke, breaking through my thoughts.

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you going to come with me to the salon? You could get your hair touched up.”

  I considered it, holding the ends of my hair up right in front of my nose. Tipped in turquoise and silver, the ends of my hair were definitely sporting some major split ends. She was right; it was time to trim and re-color the ends. Before I could answer, the bell over the door jingled, signaling a customer entering.

  The Ooey Gooey Goodness Bakery, owned and operated by myself and Sam, had become more and more popular over the last few weeks, thanks in part to a publicized fundraising campaign to raise awareness of human trafficking, and then, more recently, to a promotional strategy where we joined forces with Flo’s Flowers next door to increase Fourth of July flower and cookie orders. Still, the last hour had been dead; we had been about to close up. I looked over, quite surprised, to see who might be coming in for a cookie this late.

  My jaw dropped. Speak of the devil.

  “Mother?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

  As long as we had owned the Ooey Gooey, Deidra had not set foot inside. Until today. One time, only one, she had sent an assistant over to place a cookie order but it had been more about PR for her than support of us. This didn’t bode well.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Lowe,” the greeting felt thick and awkward even as it slid over my tongue. “Can we get you something?”

  Deidra glowered. Her fist clenched tighter around a folded newspaper in her hand. “How dare you?”

  I swiveled my head to Sam. She looked at me in confusion then back to her mother.

  “How dare who, what?” Sam blew out a breath. Deidra’s penchant for drama wasn’t new in her life.

  “This, this….” Deidra stalked forward. She waved her free hand in a circle, motioning to Sam’s head, or rather her hair. “This atrocity is more than enough to bring embarrassment to your father and I. But you couldn’t stop there, could you?”

  “Mrs. Lowe,” I stepped up beside Sam, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t think anyone is judging you for Sam’s hair color. Really.”

  “You. You stay out of this. You’ve done enough to drag my children down into some mediocre, ambitionless life. This doesn’t concern you.” Her eyes flashed daggers at me. I felt Sam stiffen at my side.

  “Get out.”

  “Excuse me?” Deidra’s voice grew cold.

  I whipped my head to face Sam, concerned as I felt her begin to shake.

  “Get out and don’t come back. I don’t know what it is you think I’ve done, but you will not come in our bakery and be disrespectful to me or my best friend. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Sam crossed her arms, matching her mother stare for stare.

  “Well. Don’t think we are finished, young lady. This is far from over.” Deidra shoved the paper into Sam’s folded arms and stormed out, high-heel pumps tapping out the drum beats of impending war on her way.

  I hugged Sam into my side. Rage marred her normally joyful face, her smile deep in hiding. Thank God my parents were nothing like her terrible mother. That woman didn’t care a bit for anyone but herself. “What in the world was that all about?” I mused, watching the sidewalk to make sure Deidra didn’t return for round two. So much for Mina, our mini-guard palm, I thought, looking at the tiny potted palm tree sitting sedately by the door. A gift from Gladys, the little palm’s leaves still fluttered frantically from Deidra’s recent exit.

  “That,” Sam interrupted my musings over Mina, “was evidently about today’s biggest headline. And somehow in that paranoid, twisted mind of hers, she thinks that I helped put it in motion.”

  I let go of Sam and took the newspaper that she held out to me, scanning. Front page news. Didn’t get much worse than that. The article itself actually contained nothing bad, unless of course you were the wife of the current mayor, obsessed with public opinion, and held a reputation for being a strait-laced, upper class socialite. For Deidra, I had no doubt the article qualified as the worst thing to happen to her in years. Possibly worse than her assistant being a psychopath who tried to kill me; although, in Deidra’s opinion, that probably made the nutty assistant a hero, but that is water under the bridge.

  LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER the title claimed in big, bold letters. Again, no big deal. The photos though, those were a different story. Or, the whole story, in this case. On the right, a photo of Sam at the Independence Day Parade with red, white, and blue hair. On the left, a snapshot of a teenage Deidra, sporting an orange mohawk. I had to look twice. Yep. Definitely Deidra. The young woman in the photo looked so…relaxed; nothing like the Deidra of today.

  Sam stood silent. Shell-shocked, if her wide-eyed and open-mouthed stare were any indication.

  “Deidra had a mohawk?” I broke the silence, walking over to lock up the front door before any other bombs dropped.

  “It’s news to me,” Sam sank to a chair at the nearest table. “And I also don’t understand why she thought I had anything to do with the article. I mean, how could I?”

  “She probably thinks it is a publicity stunt for the bakery,” I suggested as I sat down next to her, placing the paper on the table. “Deidra would pull a number of things for publicity; it makes sense that she would assume everyone operates that way.”

  Sam continued to stare at the photo.

  I felt a grin creeping over my face. I bit my lip, tried to stop myself. I failed. “I guess now we know you’re a chip off the old block.”

  That got her attention. She cut her eyes at me. “Don’t you dare. I’m nothing like that woman.”

  “Exactly.” I nodded. “I know that and you know that. You’re nothing like her. This one photo changes nothing. Now, throw that paper in the trash where it belongs and let’s forget all about it.”

  “Urgh.” Sam groaned and wadded up the newspaper, crumpling it smaller and smaller. “You’re right.” She stood. “I’m going next door to see if BeeBee is ready to go or if Flo needs her longer.” She dunked the paper ball in the garbage can and pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen, heading out the back way.

  Flo’s Flowers stood next door to the Ooey Gooey Goodness Bakery. There had been a little tension between us and Flo when Sam and I won the fundraising competition but no more. I enjoyed our good friendship, and we even created a beneficial working relationship, recommending each other’s business for special occasions. Flo had struggled with sales for some time and it made me happy that she stayed busy these days. So busy, in fact, that she hired BeeBee to help full time.

  I finished wiping down the counter and cleared out the last of the cookies from the display case, flipping the overhead lights off as I headed into the kitchen. Victoria had already left for the day; she and Millie, our two teenage part-timers, went to the local college to check out the Fall registration schedule and class offerings.

  After unloading the industrial-sized dishwasher and putting everything away for tomorrow, I removed my apron and hung it on the pegs by the back door. My insides warmed with pride as I surveyed the sparkling kitchen; I was blessed to work my dream job every day in this place, an
d with amazing friends surrounding me as coworkers.

  Flipping the lights, I opened the door to leave for the night with a satisfied smile stretched across my face.

  “Hey.”

  I all but jumped out of my skin, finding a tall, muscular man just outside the door, fist poised to knock.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Don’t sneak up on a person like that,” I swatted Griff as he moved aside for me to turn around and lock the door. “I could have pepper-sprayed you or something.”

  “Nah, I’m safe. You aren’t wearing your glamorous bag of supplies,” he joked.

  Glamorous. Ha. “Don’t you tell Gladys that I’m not wearing the fanny pack.” I waved my finger at him. “You know how she is. Three straight weeks of peace and quiet around here and she is still waiting for the boogey man to jump out and get me at every turn.”

  “You really can’t blame her for worrying.” He pulled me closer. “I still worry. Every day,” he whispered against my hair.

  I tensed. A reminder of the times I had been kidnapped or attacked wasn’t what I wanted.

  “Hey you two, no PDA.” Sam appeared from the back door of Flo’s Flowers, followed closely by BeeBee and Flo herself.

  I stuck my tongue out at my best friend.

  BeeBee laughed out loud. “I swear, you act just like my sister.” Her mouth clamped shut. “I mean, like you were sisters,” she spoke quickly, then veered around Sam and headed to the yellow Juke in the center of the parking lot.

  I looked around our little group. “Did I hear that right?” I asked. “Did BeeBee say she had a sister?”

  Sam nodded, looking back to Flo. Flo raised her shoulders in a shrug.

  “Maybe she spoke wrong.” Griff lacked conviction in his voice; still, he tried to give BeeBee an out, knowing that Sam and I would pursue the details otherwise.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Sam gave me a look. “Piper, why don’t you ride over with Griff and we’ll make supper.”

  “Don’t you mean we’ll make supper?” I twirled my finger in a circular motion between Griff and myself. Sam could bake. She could not cook any actual meals of substance, however.

  “Same thing,” she shrugged. “Flo, you’re welcome to join us.”

  “Thank you, but no. I’m going to take these tired feet home and hit the couch.” Flo hugged Sam, waved to Griff and me, and left.

  “Okay. We will see you in a few minutes, Sis.” He took my hand. “Piper and I will stop at the store and pick up something to cook for supper. Any requests?”

  “Tortellini.”

  “Done!” I loved pasta, something else Sam and I had in common. “Don’t you start prying info from BeeBee without me.”

  With a flip of hair over her shoulder, Sam tilted her head high. “I do not pry.” She marched off, pretending to be offended. I laughed as she shot me a tiny wink over her shoulder.

  “Tortellini, huh?” Griff and I walked slowly to his truck. He opened the door for me; a southern gentleman through and through.

  “You could grill some chicken breasts to slice up and add to it,” I buckled my seatbelt as he got in on his side of the truck. “Or shrimp and scallops if you’d prefer seafood?”

  “Shrimp are tiny,” he shook his head. “Chicken it is.”

  “Okay.”

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Making a list.”

  “Why? We know what we need.”

  “And what we need is a list, obviously.” While Sam was all too familiar with my list-making obsession, Griff obviously hadn’t caught on yet. I ignored his scoff and kept writing. He would learn, eventually.

  “Why don’t we split up?” I suggested to Griff as we entered the grocery store.

  “I’ll get the chicken, you get the tortellini,” he agreed, taking off toward the fresh meat section.

  Grabbing a shopping basket from the stack near the door, I pulled out my list and got started. About six minutes later, my phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Where are you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Shopping.”

  “I’ve already got the chicken. Are you having trouble finding tortellini?” Griff asked.

  Laughing, I juggled the phone and the basket around until the basket hung from the crook of my arm and I had a free hand. Opening up the fridge door, and holding it ajar with my hip, I picked up the heavy cream, adding it to my basket. “Weren’t you listening when I told you I was making a list?” Silence answered me. I sighed. “There is more to a good pasta dish than picking up some premade pasta. Don’t worry, I’m almost done.” Hanging up, I slipped the phone into a pocket of my cargo pants and checked cream off of my list.

  “She did more than that, I hear.” Voices carried from the next aisle; snippets of the conversation carried my way. “…isn’t fit to be mayor…wife like that.” At the word mayor, I stilled and listened more closely. “…talk to city council…removed.” The voices trailed further away and I couldn’t get the gist of the discussion. I peeked around the end of the aisle, but I saw only the back of a man’s leg and leather sandal as the speaker or speakers disappeared around the corner at the opposite end.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Piper.”

  I jumped and spun around, guilt washing over me at the thought of being caught eavesdropping. “Grandpa Rex!”

  “Sorry,” the old man, one of our most frequent customers, smiled. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No, that’s fine. I thought I heard a friend on this aisle. Oh well.” I shrugged. “Looks like I missed them. How are Tommy and Timmy?” We chatted about his twin grandsons for several minutes. They would be spending another week staying with Rex before going back home to their parents.

  “I’ll let you get back to your shopping,” Grandpa Rex pointed to my basket. “Though I’ve gotta say, those don’t look much like cookie ingredients.”

  “No. No cookies tonight.” I glanced at the cream, parmesan, and nutmeg. Still hadn’t made it to the tortellini. Better pick up the pace, I chided myself before returning my attention to Grandpa Rex. “These are for tortellini and grilled-chicken alfredo.” I wished Grandpa Rex a good evening, then retreated back to the dairy aisle. I had an idea, thanks to Grandpa Rex, and there would be no better time to try it out than tonight.

  “There you are!” Griff stood next to the self-checkout line, a gray grocery sack swinging from his wrist. I gathered he had given up on me and paid for the grilled chicken already.

  “Sorry! I got caught up talking to Grandpa Rex.” I didn’t mention the overheard conversation. I believed the person or persons had been talking about Griff’s parents, but I had no concrete proof nor did I even understand what I heard; I would try to forget about it, even if it had seemed particularly negative.

  “No problem. What is all this stuff?” He leaned over to look in my basket. We inched forward in line.

  “Mostly ingredients to make a homemade alfredo sauce. I didn’t think you or Sam would have nutmeg or cream. Plus, you can never have too much parmesan.” I grinned, but didn’t tell Griff about my secret plan for treats to go with tonight’s meal.

  The line chugged slowly along. After we checked out with the rest of our purchase, we walked out to Griff’s truck. I found myself trotting to keep up with his long legs. “Someone’s hungry.”

  “What?” Griff turned and saw me struggling to keep up. “Come on slow poke, you bet I’m hungry. Someone made me wait for twenty extra minutes in the grocery store.” His winked and reached back to grab my hand, tugging me up close beside him. He slowed his steps.

  ~

  Sam and BeeBee were right where I expected to find them when we arrived at the duplex that Griff and Sam shared, he in one half and she in the other. “Food’s here,” I called as I walked out on the back deck. They each sat up from their respective lounge chairs. “But now we have to cook it.” I laughed as they groaned, bubbles burst, and l
eaned back in the chairs again.

  Griff set about lighting the grill. Sam stood and joined him to inspect the bag he carried. “Oh good! I love chicken with my pasta!”

  “Grab the chicken and bring it inside to season, please,” I directed Sam. “Come on, BeeBee. I’ll teach you to make alfredo sauce. No sense in both of you living here and nobody knowing how to cook.”

  BeeBee followed Sam and me back inside, bringing their sweaty glasses of tea with her.

  Sam opened the spice cabinet and rummaged around. “What exactly am I putting on the chicken?” she asked as she moved containers around, reading labels.

  “Herbs,” I answered. Then clarified, as she shot me a dirty look. “Find one that says Italian Seasoning. I’m sure I brought some over the last time I cooked stuffed chicken over here.”

  BeeBee refilled the glasses with ice and poured a third for me.

  “Thank you,” I accepted the cold, refreshing drink. “Okay,” I wiped my mouth off and set the glass down. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded. “I’ve never cooked anything before.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  Sam shook little green flakes of Italian seasoning on the chicken breasts. “Your parents never showed you?” she kept her gaze on the chicken, as if the answer weren’t at all important.

  I busied myself pulling out spoons and a saucepan. From the corner of my eye, I watched BeeBee. She stared in a daze for several seconds before answering.

  “No. I didn’t have parents.”

  Sam stopped thumping the chicken breasts with the meat tenderizer.

  I turned the knob on the stove to heat up the pan. Turning to BeeBee, I asked her to tell us more. “What do you mean by that? Did you have any family before you ended up in places like the Thai Massage?”

  “Sometimes, it helps to talk about it.” Sam moved to the sink to wash her hands. “Piper and I are here for you.”

  BeeBee took a long swallow of her iced tea. “Maybe after supper,” she looked at us both.

  Sam reached out to touch her arm. “And only what you are comfortable sharing,” she added.