Donuts, Antiques and Murder: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery Page 2

  Not again.

  "Like...a dead body?" I whispered.

  I saw the look on Jackson's face. Okay, dumb question. But I couldn't believe what I had just heard. I leaned over and grabbed onto the police tape, which did little to steady me and I almost ended up face first on the concrete.

  "Whoa there," Jackson said, reaching out for me. A few people in the crowd tittered amongst each other at the sight of my almost fainting.

  "Come with me," Jackson said, leading me to the back of a police van. I could feel everyone's eyes on me and I was vaguely aware that this made me look like I was guilty, but my legs were so unsteady and my head was swimming so fast that I didn't care. I just needed to sit down.

  Jackson wrapped a blanket around me and offered me a Styrofoam cup filled with water. I took it with shaking hands and tried to take a sip.

  "I'm sorry. I'm so embarrassed..." I said once the ringing in my ears had stopped. "I don't even know what came over me. I'm just...shocked. That's all."

  Jackson shot me a small smile and a sympathetic look. "Seems like a lot of this sort of thing is happening around here lately."

  I stopped sipping my water. "A lot of what, exactly?" I asked cautiously.

  Jackson shrugged. "Murder."

  My heart clenched up again. "Murder?" I whispered. "So that body you found...it wasn't an accident?"

  I saw a look of dismay take over Jackson's face and a faint blush crept up his cheeks. "I...I shouldn't have said that." He coughed. "The details are not clear yet. We're still investigating."

  "But you think it's a murder."

  "Rach, I didn't..."

  "Detective Whitaker," a stern female voice called out. "We need you back inside."

  Jackson shot me an apologetic look and promised to check on me later. He made me promise to wait there a while and rest. But as soon as he was out of eyeshot, I stood up and threw my cup in the trash.

  "Pippa," I called out breathlessly, running back to where she still stood, seemingly frozen in shock. "Pippa, someone was murdered in the antiques shop."

  She turned to me slowly. "Now are you going to believe me, Rachael?"

  "Believe you about what?" It took a moment or two for me to figure out what she was going on about. "Pippa, you have to be kidding me..."

  Her voice was low and foreboding. "I told you, Rach. The children in the painting. They won't let their home be taken from them."

  I placed my hands on my hips. "So what are you saying, Pippa? That the children in the painting have killed someone? Seriously, just think for a second about how ridiculous that sounds..."

  Pippa gave me a long, low look. "I've already warned you twice, Rachael. First the storm, then the hook coming off the wall--on the side of the bakery that is next door to the antiques shop even!"

  I rolled my eyes.

  "Then the blackout that was confined to our building."

  I shifted from one foot to the other. Now that one was a little harder to explain away. We'd checked the fuse box and it had been fine. And no other buildings on the street had been affected. The lights had mysteriously come back on three hours later, but by then, we'd already lost all our preparation time for the following day, costing me a great deal of time and money. Still, there had to be a logical explanation.

  Didn't there?

  Pippa was still standing with her hands on her hips.

  "Now the twins are sending you an even more serious warning. Are you really going to buy that shop, Rachael? Are you really going to work in there? Run your business from that place?"

  I stared up ahead as a stretcher with a body bag lying on top was pushed from the shop into a waiting ambulance.

  I gulped and reached into my pocket to feel the contract still waiting to be handed over.

  If I was still going to buy the shop, I was going to have to figure out who killed that young man.

  Pippa was still staring at the shop. She was so blue and pale that she was practically translucent. Her eyes were glazed over, but there was a distinct look of fear frozen inside them.

  And I realized: more than anything else, I was going to have to prove that the killer was human.

  Chapter 3

  I leaned over and inspected the rows of flaky pastry topped with thick, hard vanilla frosting. My personal favorite: Vanilla Slice.

  But not my personal recipe.

  Pippa held her breath. "Well?" she finally squeaked. "What's the verdict?"

  "Hmm, they smell good, but I think I'm going to have to sample one just to make sure." Pippa almost turned blue as she waited for me to sample the dessert. The pastry was perfectly crisp and flaky, and the custard was soft but firm without being gelatinous.

  I narrowed my eyes at her as I leaned against the counter, stringing out my verdict like I was the judge on a reality show.

  "I give them a nine out of ten."

  Pippa heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. I was so worried that Romeo wouldn't be up to the job. Oh, I'm so glad you like them, Rach."

  Romeo was Pippa's first hire in her role as assistant manager. One of the perks of expanding was that I could hire an apprentice baker, and one of the other perks was that I could outsource some of my managerial duties. I'd been a little nervous leaving Pippa in charge of hiring, but not as nervous as she had been about finding the right person. Romeo was a talented baker, even though he could be a little grumpy, but that could have just been due to the early hours that bakers had to keep. I could cut him a little slack on that. Been there, done that. I was grateful that I occasionally got to sleep in these days.

  Speak of the devil, Romeo trudged out of the kitchen, wiping his flour-covered hands on his apron as he scowled at the two of us. His dark curly hair was sticking out from underneath his cap and I could tell from the bags hanging under his eyes that the 3:00 A.M. alarms were already taking their toll on him.

  "Good morning," I said, smiling brightly at him.

  "I need coffee," he said back, heading straight for our espresso machine. I placed my hand gently in front of the machine, stopping him.

  "You don't need to do that. How about I run and get coffee for all of us from that new place down the road, the Red Ribbon, I think it's called, as a treat?" I asked cheerily. "They've got some amazing flavors..."

  Pippa nodded eagerly and told me she'd take a cookies and cream iced coffee. Romeo was still scowling but he reluctantly said he'd take a short black. "You sure you don't want anything a bit special?"

  "Short black," he said gruffly.

  Pippa and I looked at each other as he stomped back to the kitchen and we both burst into laughter as the door swung shut behind him. "He's only twenty but he acts like a grumpy old man."

  Pippa agreed. "Sorry that he's so...tempestuous, though. I swear, at the interview he was a lot more friendly."

  "You don't need to apologize for his every action, Pippa. You can't be held responsible for his attitude. Besides, as long as he keeps baking like this, he can give me all the attitude he likes...just don't tell him that," I added, before I grabbed my purse to head out the door. "I'll be back in ten!"

  * * *

  There was a long line at the Red Ribbon when I arrived. Maybe I was going to be little longer than ten minutes. I glanced over my shoulder at the bakery, wondering if Romeo could go that long without his coffee before he started murdering people.

  Poor choice of words.

  "Hey!" a voice called and I jumped. "You look like you're a million miles away there."

  "Jackson...Detective, I mean," I said, straightening up. "Just hoping that everyone at the bakery is okay without me." Not thinking about murder.

  He grinned at me. "I'm sure they'll manage just fine without you. Why don't you sit down and join me for a little while?"

  I really shouldn't.

  But I did have an ulterior motive for wanting to chat with Jackson, and it wasn't just to sit down and take a break. I was hoping that he might let some details of the case slip out if I could get him to relax
a little. I couldn't just come straight out and ask him for police information, but over coffee, I might be able to get something out of him.

  But I kept thinking about Pippa being stuck on her own with Romeo on a rampage.

  Jackson seemed to sense my hesitation. "Come on, I'll even buy your coffee.”

  He placed our order and I ordered Romeo and Pippa's to-go in half an hour.

  I settled into a booth. "I'll just tell them the line was long. Really, really long."

  "You don't have to feel guilty for taking a few minutes to yourself, Rachael," Jackson said as he slipped into the seat across from me. "You've worked non-stop the last few years to get that bakery to the point where it can take care of itself."

  "It's not that,” I said, stirring even more sugar into my vanilla latte. Romeo wasn't the only person that morning who needed a pick-me-up, but I relied on sugar over caffeine for my morning hit.

  I chose my next words carefully. "I'm just a little on edge after everything that happened yesterday."

  Jackson sat his coffee mug down. "Right," he murmured. "That would be a huge thing for you right now. Has business been affected?"

  I shook my head. "Not like last time." Last time someone had been murdered on this street, I'd almost gone of out business. But last time the murder weapon had been a pie. This time it had been…that was just one detail I needed to get from Jackson.

  I waited for Jackson's reaction. "The last time. Right. Trouble sure does seem to be following you lately."

  "So how was the man killed?" I interrupted him, speaking far more bluntly than I'd intended. Great, Rach, I scolded myself. Way to be subtle about getting info.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. "We don't know that yet." He picked up his mug again and took a sip, watching me closely. "Do you?"

  "Of course not," I replied quickly. "How would I know that?"

  He shrugged. "Like I said, trouble seems to be following you lately."

  "Pippa has this crazy idea that I am being haunted," I said, rolling my eyes.

  I expected Jackson to laugh, but instead he just gave me a long look. "Weird things do seem to happen around you, Rachael.” Now he looked suspicious. "Things like people getting killed."

  I was outraged. "Are you suggesting I might have been in some way responsible for that guy’s death?" We'd been down this road before. Last time a person had died on this street, I'd been a prime suspect in her murder, until I'd been able to solve it and clear my own name.

  Jackson sighed. "I would have already brought you in for questioning if you were. Don't worry, you'll know about it if you become a suspect."

  That was reassuring. "I have an alibi you know. I was with Pippa all night." This wasn't exactly how I'd wanted the conversation to go. I'd wanted to get information from him, not become a suspect.

  He told me to take a breath, relax. Which was easier said than done.

  It wasn't that I believed Pippa's haunted house stories. But Jackson was right: death seemed to be following me.

  I shivered.

  "Here, I'll order you another coffee."

  I shook my head. "I need to go," I said, standing up abruptly. Jackson looked disappointed. "Sorry, there's just something I need to do."

  * * *

  "Shoot," I said, stepping through the door as I realized I'd forgotten Pippa and Romeo's coffees.

  "Where have you been?" Pippa asked. "You've been gone for over half an hour."

  "The line was massive." I threw my empty hands up into the air. "So I just gave up. I hope Romeo isn't going to kill me."

  Pippa sighed and crossed her arms, glancing back over her shoulder at the kitchen with a worried look on her face. "Well, I think Romeo's coffee is the least of your problems right now."

  "What do you mean?" I heard a crashing sound and then the back door slamming shut. "Pippa,” I shouted, running towards the kitchen. "Is that the sound of Romeo leaving? What’s going on here?"

  She chased after me as I opened the door to find a kitchen in absolute chaos. There were overturned bowls everywhere, flour and pastry and cake mix covering every surface, including the walls and floor. "Has something exploded in here?" I asked Pippa.

  "Yeah," she answered. "Romeo."

  My jaw was open wide. "I've heard of people getting grumpy because they don't get their morning coffee, but this is just insane. Pippa, what happened?"

  I turned to find her huddled against the door looking guilty. "I don't know, Rach, but I think whatever was upsetting him, it was something more serious than coffee. I don't think he got any sleep last night. He was in a rotten mood all morning. I mean, he's always a bit surly but today it was on another level."

  I looked at the mess all around me in horror. "Well, is he coming back?"

  Pippa threw her hands in the air. "I'm sorry, Rach. I don't know." She hung her head. "This is my fault. I should never have hired him."

  I turned to leave. "Just try and get him back, by this afternoon preferably. Otherwise, we're going to have to find another apprentice baker. Or have nothing to serve this afternoon."

  * * *

  "It's the curse," Pippa said as our meager supply of cakes ran out shortly after lunchtime.

  "What is?" I asked.

  Pippa shrugged and looked down at the empty display cases. "This," she said, pointing to them.

  I turned towards her slowly. "Are you trying to blame Romeo's unprofessionalism on a curse? I'm pretty sure that was all just due to him being a bad employee. And young. Not everyone can handle the stress of the early hours. There’s nothing paranormal about it. In fact, it's very normal to react badly to poor sleep."

  Pippa shook her head. "I told you, the twins will do everything they can to stay in their home." She grabbed me by the shoulders. "And they will do everything they can to stop you from taking over. Screwing with your staff, and your cash supply, so that you can't buy the store!"

  "I am buying the store. One poor day of sales can't stop me."

  Pippa turned white. "You're really going to ignore all this?" she whispered.

  I had to turn the sign on the door to “closed,” seeing as we had nothing to serve for the rest to the afternoon.

  "Should I place another job ad?" Pippa asked quietly.

  "Not just yet. Let's see if Romeo comes back." Even though he had acted atrociously, I was willing to give him another chance, based on his age and baking skills, and also largely due to the fact that we'd all been through a bit of a shock following the previous day's events.

  "I can wait, Rachael, but I don't think Romeo is coming back. He's as freaked out as I am.”

  I stopped and stared at her. "What does that mean?"

  "Nothing," she said quickly, picking up a broom. "Just that he was on edge."

  "Does he believe this crazy story as well? Did you put these ideas in his head?" I took a step towards her. "Come on, Pippa, you better tell me what really happened this morning in the kitchen."

  "Nothing," she repeated. "I don't know what was up with Romeo today. He just went crazy." She swept a bit of rubbish into a pile and brushed the stack into the bin. "But I wouldn't blame him if he was too scared to keep working here."

  "Fine, Pippa. If you're so hell-bent on sticking to your crazy haunted painting theory, then come with me to the antiques shop and prove it to me."

  Pippa's eyes were so wide that all I could see were the whites. With her bright blue hair, she looked a little bit like a circus clown. "Fine," she finally said. "But if anything happens while we’re snooping around, you have to take it as your final warning. To stay away from the place. Deal?"

  I hesitated. But what were the chances of something odd happening? "Deal," I agreed.

  Chapter 4

  It was 1:00 A.M. I'd been out on the back of the street at this time before, but that was only once when I had a mountain of pastries to bake and no staff to help me.

  "Actually, after we finish this snooping around, I will probably have to start work," I grumbled. "On zero sleep. Y
ou thought Romeo was bad today. I'm going to be a match for him." I paused. "You haven't heard from him by any chance, have you?"

  Pippa shook her head. As she spoke, the chill in the air caused her words to steam in front of her. "I'll find an even better baker for you, Rach, I promise. I'll make it up to you."

  "Don't worry about that now," I said gently. "Let's just concentrate on what we're doing here."

  Pippa shocked me when, instead of heading towards the back entrance of the antiques shop, she started walking around the front.

  "Where are you going?" I called out in a shout that I tried to keep to a whisper.

  She stopped for a moment. "The back is deadbolted, I can't pick that. The front is just a regular lock."

  I ran after her. The streetlights at the front of the shop suddenly cast a sobering light on what we were doing.

  "We really shouldn't be going inside," I said, glancing at the yellow tape that still surrounded the antiques shop. "We could be arrested for tampering with a crime scene."

  "It was your idea." Pippa pushed past me and began to search around with a flashlight.

  I pushed the flashlight down and told her to keep quiet. "Someone will see us."

  "Well, how are we supposed to see?" Pippa shivered. "I'm not going inside that place without any light."

  "Fine."

  We crept up to the door and Pippa took a pin out of her hair. I'd heard the rumors about her prowess with lock-picking, but I'd never actually seen her skills first hand.

  "Keep a look out, Rach." She didn't need to tell me twice. Last thing I wanted was to get arrested for breaking and entering. Detective Whitaker would put me at the top of his suspects list for the guy’s murder.

  I told myself that we weren't there to cause any damage, or to even touch anything. We were there to help solve a crime. That helped ease my guilty conscious a little bit.

  "What would I do without you, Pips?" I had to admire the way she'd picked the lock like a skilled pro. Although, as I stepped over the threshold and glanced at the popped lock, I couldn't help but think about the fact that I would have had the keys by now, if the slight problem of the murder hadn't taken place.