Church Camp Chaos (6 page)

“I’m William Baker.” Mr. Johnson waved from his seat in the recliner. He looked down at his note card before continuing. “I’m about to open up my own bakery in town, and I would really like to get my hands on the cupcakes to see if I can steal the recipe and perfect it for my store.”

Mr. Johnson was wearing everyday clothes, with the addition of a leopard-print baker’s hat and apron that EJ recognized as a set Mrs. Winkle owned.

“Cupcakes are for dessert, Mr. Baker,” Mom said to Mr. Johnson. Then she whispered, “And that part of your card isn’t what you’re supposed to
say
, Lester. It’s supposed to tell you your
motivation
for the mystery.”

“My motivation is that I’m starving!” Mr. Johnson grunted.

EJ thought for a moment before adding to her notebook:

3. William Baker: hungry—for food and for his bakery to be a success.

“And this is Wildcard McGee,” Mom said as Isaac took a deep bow. Isaac was wearing green cowboy boots and Mom’s white bathrobe with big purple polka dots on it, a Superman cape pinned to the back of the robe. All that was bizarre enough, but what really put the outfit over the top was a pair of costume glasses with a fake nose, mustache, and eyebrows attached.

“Great to meet you, Holmes.” Isaac grabbed EJ’s hand and started pumping her arm like he was trying to bring water up from a well in an old-timey movie. “Do you have any spare acorn tops on you this evening?”

“Acorn tops? Um—no, I’m afraid I’m fresh out,” EJ said, not sure what to make of this strange character.

EJ quickly jotted another note:

4. Wildcard McGee:???

“No problem. I have an extra acorn top you can borrow.” Isaac reached into his pocket and pulled out the part of an acorn that looks like a little hat and dropped it into EJ’s outstretched hand. “Now, do this.” Isaac took out a second acorn top, held it between his thumbs and pointer fingers and blew into it, causing an ear-piercing whistle that made everyone in the room wince and plug their ears. Bert, who looked like he wished he could cover his ears but couldn’t, joined in the noise by howling at a similar pitch.

“And that
delightful
sound must mean dinner is served!” Mrs. Winkle said as she entered the living room. She was wearing a flouncy apron with pink and purple swirls all over it and had a pair of tongs in her hand.

“Miss Holmes, I’m Cookie Cookson, and I had the distinct pleasure of preparing tonight’s meal for us to enjoy.” Mrs. Winkle hugged EJ in a very Mrs. Winkle-y warm way and then added with a little edge to her voice, “Well, I prepared all but the dessert. Apparently
some people
think my baking skills aren’t good enough for the occasion.”

“If everyone would follow me into the dining area, we’ll get the meal under way,” Mom said, ushering the guests into the kitchen and eyeballing Nana’s diamonds with a wistful look in her eye.

EJ made another note as she followed the group to the table:

5. Cookie Cookson: bitter about not getting to make dessert.

“Cookie, you have really outdone yourself this time.” Mr. Johnson wiped his mouth with his napkin, which was tucked into the top of his apron. “Now, where is that dessert I heard about?”

Mrs. Winkle blushed at the compliment from Mr. Johnson before remembering to stay in character. “Oh, right … the dessert,” she said in an annoyed voice. “The cupcakes for tonight’s dessert were baked by two celebrity chefs, and we’re going to vote to choose a winner.”

There was a murmuring of interest around the table as Mrs. Winkle rose to get the dessert.

“No matter what, I’m voting chocolate,” EJ said, obviously trying to influence the vote.

“But sometimes vanilla really hits the spot,” Mom chimed in, playing the same game as EJ.

“Without any further ado, I give you Chef EJ’s Dreamstar Cupcakes and Chef Tabby’s Heaven-Sent Cupcakes!” Mrs. Winkle set a cake stand in the middle of the table and lifted the silver dome to reveal …

An empty tray.

“Nobody move!” EJ Holmes jumps up from her seat, magnifying glass in hand. “This is a crime scene, and you’re all guilty until I’ve proven you innocent!”

The guests look suspiciously at each other as EJ stands on her chair to inspect the empty cake stand
.

“Aha! A clue!” EJ picks up a photo on the tray and peers at it through her magnifying class: a dozen beautiful cupcakes displayed on the cake stand—six devil’s food with fudge frosting, multicolored star-shaped sprinkles, and sparkle flecks, and six white cake with fluffy white frosting topped with a sprinkling of gorgeous edible pearls
.

“One of you has stolen these delicious desserts, and it’s my job to find out who—and why.” EJ Holmes steps off the chair and walks around the table, looking at each suspect—one at a time—through the magnifying glass
.

“William Baker,” EJ says, consulting her notes. “Your business depends on getting the very best baked goods to sell in your store. You had the motive to steal these cupcakes to uncover the secret recipes.”

“I don’t need to be some copycat!” William protests. “My baked goods are better than any that are out there!”

“Then there’s Mr. and Mrs. Pickpocket.” EJ moves down the table. “They would’ve seen the business potential of stealing some delicious cupcakes and then selling them to the highest bidder.”

Penny and Peter look shocked at the accusation
.

“Or maybe you two have sticky fingers because you both have a sweet tooth, and you stole the cupcakes to eat them yourselves!” EJ adds
.

“I admit those cupcakes do look mighty fancy,” Peter says. “But we deal only in precious metals, Miss Holmes. Gold. Silver. Jewels. Things that are worth real money.”

“In that case”—EJ glances at her notes and moves on to the next suspects—“Mr. Rich, you said you always want your wife to be the most beautiful woman in the room, no matter where she goes. Perhaps the cupcakes were outshining your wife, so you had to get rid of them!”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Miss Holmes,” Victoria Rich says, twisting a strand of pearls around her finger. “Those cupcakes are a poor man’s idea of wealth next to my sparkle. By the way, I’d like my diamonds back now.”

“I don’t like how they feel on my skin anyway. Here you go.” EJ removes the diamond strand from her neck and hands it back to Mrs. Rich
.

“This never would’ve happened if I’d been allowed to make the dessert,” Cookie says, crossing her arms in disgust. “Celebrity chefs are all divas, and their fancy-pants desserts cause nothing but trouble.”

“And maybe, Cookie, just maybe … you stole the cupcakes to make your point!” EJ says, pointing her magnifying glass at Cookie with a dramatic flair
.

“I most certainly did not,” Cookie says. “No matter how much I may dislike another chef, I would never sabotage her work. That is downright unprofessional.”

“Then, of course! Why didn’t I see it before?” EJ Holmes is desperate to figure out who is guilty. “Wildcard McGee must be guilty of the crime!” EJ looks at her notebook. “Except … well, to be honest, Wildcard, I have no idea who you are or what your motivation for stealing the cupcakes might be.”

“Because they are fun to throw in food fights!” Wildcard wiggles his eyebrows, causing his glasses/nose/mustache to move up and down on his face, making him look even sillier. “If I stole them, we’d all be covered in cake, frosting, and sprinkles right now.”

EJ scratches her head with her magnifying glass and looks down at her notes. Not one of her suspects is guilty. Some detective she is turning out to be
.

“Watson, what do you think?” EJ Holmes glances down at the floor. “Watson? Has anybody seen Watson?”

EJ kneels on the floor to search for her missing friend. Looking through the magnifying glass, she spies Watson’s dog dish in the corner, empty
.

“Cookie, did you feed Watson at the same time you served our dinner tonight?” EJ asks
.

“Not my department,” Cookie says, annoyed. “I feed people, not animals.”

Suddenly there is a scratching sound at the pantry door, followed by a sharp bark that EJ immediately recognizes as none other than …

“Watson stole the cupcakes!” EJ announced triumphantly as she opened the pantry door to find Bert inside, along with the tray of cupcakes. Bert jumped into EJ’s arms, his tail wagging as he licked her face.

Everyone at the table burst into applause and echoed a chorus of “Well done!” and “Good job!” EJ grinned and took a bow with Bert still in her arms.

“Watson, how could you betray me for a life of crime?” she asked Bert teasingly.

“To be fair to Bert, we did set him up,” Mom said as she set the tray of cupcakes on the table. “Did you figure out
why
Watson stole the cupcakes?”

“Elementary, my dear mother!” EJ said in a British accent. “We didn’t feed him, so he stole the cupcakes because he was hungry.”

“Speaking of hungry, are we going to eat this delicious dessert or not?” asked Mr. Johnson.

“First we light candles and sing, Lester!” Mrs. Winkle chided him.

Mom and Mrs. Winkle made quick work of adding eleven birthday candles to the cupcakes and setting them ablaze. Pops’s deep singing voice led everyone in “Happy Birthday.”

EJ closed her eyes, made a wish, and blew out all the candles on her first try. Everyone clapped, and Isaac called out, “Food fight!” and made a lunge for the cupcakes.

“Nice try, Wildcard.” Dad grabbed him by the Superman cape and stopped him midair. “Maybe we’ll have a food fight on
your
birthday.”

“But don’t count on it,” Mom added.

“Okay, on to the judging,” Mrs. Winkle said. On her cue, everyone took a bite of Mom’s Heaven-Sent Cupcakes.

EJ had to admit it was pretty amazing.

“Oh honey, it’s like a fluffy cloud in my mouth!” Dad said. “In the best way possible, of course.”

“Light as a feather,” Nana said, smiling. “I’ve taught you well, Tabby.”

Mom beamed and said, “Let’s see if I’ve done as good a job in teaching my daughter as you’ve taught me.”

EJ peeled back the paper liner of her cupcake and took one last admiring look at the perfectly piped chocolate frosting, edible gold flecks, and multicolored sprinkles before taking a giant bite of her cupcake …

… a bite she immediately regretted.

Maybe I just got a dud
, EJ thought as she tried to choke down the disgusting bite of cake.
My perfect Dreamstar Cupcakes can’t all be this bad…
.

“BLECH!” EJ looked up to see Isaac spit out his cupcake onto Mr. Johnson’s napkin bib.

In one fluid motion—even faster than Mr. Johnson could react—Mom responded by scooping up the napkin and cake spit on Mr. Johnson’s chest and removing them from sight.

“That cupcake was Nasty McNasterson!” Isaac yelled, confirming what EJ feared: her cupcakes were terrible. She felt the sting of disappointed tears in her eyes, and her stomach lurched in embarrassment.

EJ searched the faces around the table to find looks of disgust—not just at Isaac’s display of bad table manners but obviously because they wished they could spit out the cupcake like Isaac had just done. Pops looked like he was trying to will himself to chew once, twice—enough to somehow swallow the tragedy in his mouth. Mrs. Winkle was fanning her face with her hand, her cheeks bulging with inedible cake. Dad gulped some water to try to dilute the taste in his mouth and patted his belly, trying (unsuccessfully) to convince EJ it was the best thing he’d ever eaten.

She knew there was only one way to end this cake standoff, so she picked up her napkin and deposited her mouthful of putrid dessert into it.

“Nobody has to eat these,” EJ announced.

The adults around the table plastered painful-looking smiles on their faces and shrugged their shoulders, which EJ interpreted as “Oh, it’s not so bad,” and “I think if I just try another bite, the taste will grow on me.”

Isaac looked around at the faces and said, “EJ, you think
I’m
crazy, but they are the crazy ones! Your cupcakes are
awful
!”

“I
know
, Isaac!” EJ hissed at her brother, embarrassed heat rising in her cheeks. “Why do you think I spit mine out?”

EJ watched the faces around the table start to turn a particularly sick shade of green. She appreciated that everyone was trying to make her feel okay about her cupcakes, but enough was enough.

“Seriously, everyone. I don’t care that it’s my birthday. So, please,” she pleaded. “Spit. It. Out!”

There was a moment when the adults looked at EJ to make sure she was really okay with what was about to happen. Seeing their hesitation, EJ nodded, and then there was a collective sigh of relief as everyone spit cake into their napkins.

“Oh EJ!” Mrs. Winkle said after taking a drink of water. “I have to give you some credit for such a
spectacularly
terrible cupcake.”

EJ smiled to herself, and her embarrassment began to melt away. Mrs. Winkle always knew how to find the bright side of every situation.