The Diva Frosts a Cupcake (15 page)

“What do you like better?” she asked. “Cookies and Cream, Orange Dreams, or Lemon Meringue?”

“Don’t you have a dozen cupcakes in the box in your hand?”

“It would be rude not to buy any!”

Spenser ambled out of the back. “Nina! Sophie! I hope this means you have news about Buddy.”

Nina assured him we were working on it.

His face fell. “Oh no. I know why you’re here, then.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Dear Natasha,

I want to bake cupcakes. They seem so much easier than a whole cake. Do I have to grease the cupcake pan if I’m using cupcake liners?

—New Baker in Bakers Mill, Florida

Dear New Baker,

As long as you put cupcake liners in your cupcake pan, you do not need to grease it. However, if you do
not
use cupcake liners, grease the pan well so your cupcakes won’t stick to it.

—Natasha

Spenser beckoned to us. “There’s a little spot out back where we can talk in private. Iced mocha frappé okay with everybody?” He ushered us to a back door and pointed at a tiny table with a striped umbrella. “This is where my employees take their breaks in nice weather. I’ll be right with you.”

“What’s that about?” asked Nina.

We sat down at the table. “I have no idea, but I’m willing to hear what he has to say.”

Spenser showed up in minutes carrying a tray of assorted mini cupcakes and three iced mocha frappés.

Nina swooned. “Be still, my heart. It’s a good thing I’m not your wife. I’d eat like this every day. Ooo, is this lemon?”

Spenser smiled. “Meyer lemon. Clarissa doesn’t much care for cupcakes anymore. When you’re around them all the time, I guess they begin to lose their appeal. Given her druthers, she’d choose lobster over a cupcake any day.”

Nina wasted no time biting into a cupcake.

Spenser massaged his face as though he was uncomfortable. “I feel terrible. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was Humphrey’s car. Maybe I wouldn’t have called the police if I had realized that. Or maybe I would have. I don’t know. It was all so unexpected, that I called the cops immediately without giving it much thought.”

It took me a second to figure out what he was talking about. “The gem-studded cupcake.”

He leaned back in the flimsy wire chair. “I never thought I’d see it again. Silly, I know, but of all the things that were stolen from our house, that one bugged me the most. We could replace the rest of the stuff, like Clarissa’s jewelry, but you don’t run into that kind of cupcake every day.”

“So you saw it in Humphrey’s car?” The cupcake wasn’t all that big. Why had he been looking in Humphrey’s car?

“Yeah. Talk about flukes. The car was parked on the street. I was out walking, looking for Buddy, and I guess the streetlight just happened to shine on it, catching my eye. I was astonished. It had to be mine. There couldn’t be many of them.”

“Where was it in the car?”

“Have you seen his car? It’s a hatchback with a shelf in the rear over the cargo area. The cupcake was up there, sort of tucked into a corner.”

“Not exactly where someone would put it if they were hiding it.” Nina licked frosting off her fingertip.

Spenser nodded. “I thought about that. But it could have rolled out of a pocket or a bag. I got to know Humphrey a little bit better when he pitched in to help Renee bake her cupcakes. He seems like a stand-up guy.”

“He is.” I sipped my iced mocha frappé. I had so many questions for Spenser. I didn’t want to run the risk of alienating him. I made a show of selecting a mini cupcake while I thought about how to best keep him talking.

Choosing a coconut cupcake, I said, “Francie tells me you were out of town when your house was burglarized.” I watched Spenser carefully. I liked him, and I didn’t want to think he could have been involved, but people in financial pinches had been known to stage thefts for insurance money.

“I was in Miami. Poor Clarissa was home alone when it happened. Scared her to death. It’s just a lucky thing she had the presence of mind to hide under the bed and not challenge the thief. Who knows what might have happened if she’d taken him on?” He shuddered at the thought.

“I hope everything was insured?” I also hoped my question sounded breezy and not nosy.

“Unfortunately not. We didn’t have the special riders required for most of the items he took. Especially not for that cupcake! It’s still in police custody, but I’ve already placed a call to my insurance agent about getting coverage for it.”

So much for that theory. “Where did you get the cupcake?”

His eyes darted to the side as though he was considering his answer. “A guy I knew found himself in financial trouble. There’s not a big market for that kind of thing, and I wanted to help him out. At the time I thought it would be a great way to . . . it would make a nice present.”

“I never thanked you for offering Cake My Day to Renee so she could bake for the Cupcakes and Pupcakes dinner.” Nina dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “She was in such a bind without access to her bakery.”

“I was glad to do it. She might have won if she hadn’t swapped the powdered sugar with the flour. I pulled all the ingredients after the problems she had at her booth on Sunday. We had to throw out a few batches of our cupcakes, too. I can’t afford to have ingredients mixed up.”

He swigged back some of his icy drink. Stress fell off Spenser’s face when he smiled. “Renee and I go way back. Did you know that her first cupcake baking job was at the very first Cake My Day? She worked side-by-side with Clarissa and me to get the business off the ground.”

“Why did she leave?” asked Nina.

Thank goodness she asked, because I was wondering if there had been a falling-out. Given the way Clarissa had acted toward me, I couldn’t help wondering if she’d also imagined Spenser involved in a romance with Renee.

“Renee dreamed of having her own place. She pinched every penny to save up. Clarissa used to cook enough for three because she was worried about Renee refusing to spend money on food. Then things picked up for Cake My Day, and we started expanding. Renee knew she could have any job in the company that she wanted, but she never let go of her dream.” He slid a hand around the back of his neck. “I admire that. She’s very focused. When she met Joy, they pooled their resources and took a chance.”

“And now that has ended in disaster. Do you know what happened?” I asked.

Spenser sighed and raised his eyebrows. “Partnerships implode all the time. It’s not easy working with someone else. Everyone has a unique vision of how a business should be run. Renee says Joy took all their money and used it to open her own shop. I gave Renee a little seed money to get back on her feet.”

“You gave it to her? It’s not a loan?” blurted Nina.

“Loans make for bad bedfellows. When it’s an outright gift, there aren’t any ill feelings, because there’s no expectation of repayment.”

“You’re a good friend!” said Nina.

I took a chance. “Is that what happened with Colleen?”

Nina frowned at me. “Who’s Colleen?”

“You don’t miss a trick, do you?” Spenser sighed.

I feared I had crossed a line. “Maurice mentioned her name the other day.”

Spenser heaved a deep breath. “I try not to bring it up because it’s a sad story, and it does no one any good to keep it alive. Colleen was Maurice’s wife.”

“I didn’t know he was married,” said Nina.

The back door creaked open, and a male employee said, “Clarissa’s here, boss.”

“I hope you won’t think me rude, but unless we want another big fuss, I think you’d better go.” Spenser rose. “I’ll coax her upstairs so you two can slip out.”

But it was too late. A spatula loaded with frosting flew at me and smacked me in the head.

Clarissa stood in the doorway, pulling back her arm to launch a whisk at me. It hit Spenser as he grabbed her. He motioned toward the door with his head.

Nina and I hustled into the cupcake shop and out the front door with all the employees and a good number of customers looking on.

When we made it to the sidewalk, Nina tasted a smidgen of the frosting that had splashed over on her. “Strawberry.”

“Ugh. It’s all over me.” I reached up and touched my head. “Oh, great,” I grumbled. “It’s in my hair, too.” There was nothing to do but walk home and hope I didn’t run into anyone I knew.

Soft snickering drifted to me. Nina and I turned to the right.

A woman at least fifteen years younger than me had stepped out of a town house that was for sale. Brunette curls tumbled around her shoulders in the latest I-just-rolled-out-of-bed tousled style. She had legs like a giraffe and a wasp waist. She tittered again and pointed to me.

And right behind her, holding the door for her, stood Alex.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Dear Sophie,

My husband complains about the tough part of asparagus. It seems that, no matter how I cook them, there’s always a barely edible portion at the end. I love asparagus, but he won’t eat it anymore!

—Devoted Wife in Toughkenamon, Pennsylvania

Dear Devoted Wife,

Each piece of asparagus turns woody at a different point. But there is a solution. Hold the asparagus spear just below the top. With the other hand, snap off the bottom. Asparagus will always break at the correct location. No more tough ends.

—Sophie

All hope of any future relationship with Alex flew away.

Doing his best to hold back his amusement, he introduced Nina and me to his Realtor, Kayla. It was with enormous regret that I realized Kayla and Alex made a handsome pair.

Alex leaned forward and lightly brushed my lips with his.

His tiny, gentle gesture left me breathless and stupefied.

I wasn’t the only one. Nina lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

He snagged a tiny bit of icing with his finger and tasted it. “Raspberry?”

“I think it’s strawberry.” Nina reached toward my face and dabbed her finger in frosting.

I wanted to bat her away, but I had a feeling that would not have improved the situation.

“Hmm, maybe you’re right,” agreed Nina.

“What on earth happened?” Kayla inquired.

“It was a misunderstanding.” I was dying to fall into a hole or at least run away, but social graces compelled me to be polite. Besides, if I ran, he might misinterpret my reaction to his kiss. Summoning courage, I pushed frosted hair out of my face and tried to pretend everything was fine. I had a bad feeling that Kayla might be catty about the loony woman with the black eye and the frosting in her hair. Who could blame her? “Have you found anything you like yet, Alex?”

“This building is nice, but there’s one closer to the courthouse that I like much better.”

“It’s a wonderful historic town house,” said Kayla. “Besides the gorgeous office on the first floor, I think Alex likes it because it once belonged to someone called Crazy Knees Lee.”

“How’s the general?” I asked.

“Home from the hospital. Ladies have lined up to visit. I’m having to beat them off with a broom.”

Nina tapped my hair with her finger. “I think I’d better get Sophie home. That icing is beginning to dry on her hair.”

Lovely. That was just the impression I wanted to make on Alex. We said good-bye, and as Nina and I walked away, I heard Kayla ask Alex, “Did she have a black eye, too?”

After a long shower, I made a tuna fish sandwich, sharing the tuna with Mochie and Daisy. I filled a mug with hot tea, added a splash of milk and a spoonful of sugar, and retreated to my office to do some work.

While I was taking care of e-mail and setting up appointments, Humphrey called to ask if we could all convene at my house around six o’clock, since Myra was nervous about trying to search Maurice’s house for Buddy. Naturally, I agreed.

At five o’clock, I returned to the kitchen to take puff pastry out of the freezer and boil water for iced tea. Natasha would have been appalled that I hadn’t made my own puff pastry, but some days one just didn’t have the time. I left it to thaw and dashed upstairs to hide as much as possible of my black eye with makeup. It looked better, but still couldn’t be entirely hidden. Since the majority of my clothes were black to hide my extra pounds, it wasn’t too hard to find a sleuthing outfit. I wasn’t sure what Humphrey had in mind, but I figured black was always good for blending in at night.

I pulled on a sleeveless black top with a boat neck and black jeans with a comfortable elastic waistband. Black Keds and small gold hoops completed my morbid ensemble.

With the oven preheating to 400 degrees, I rolled out a sheet of puff pastry to fit a round pizza pan. I placed a sheet of parchment paper over the pan, laid the puff pastry on top of it, and pierced it several times before sliding it into the oven. While it began to bake, I washed and snapped the ends off fresh spring asparagus. I slid them into boiling water to parboil them and removed them within minutes.

Nina tapped on the window of my kitchen door and let herself in. “Mmm. Already smells good in here.” She’d dressed much as I had, also in black, but she’d had the good sense to wear a hoodie so she could cover her hair.

“You’re just in time to help me roll asparagus.”

“Roll it?” She wrinkled her nose.

I mixed creamy goat cheese with minced garlic, sea salt, freshly ground black pepper, a squeeze of lemon juice, minced fresh basil, dried oregano, and chopped parsley. For just a touch of zing, I sprinkled in red pepper flakes.

“I suppose mixed drinks are a bad idea if we need to be alert?”

“Later,” I promised. “For now, I thought I’d make mango iced tea.”

We spread the herbed goat cheese mixture on strips of ham that we wrapped around the asparagus. Then we wrapped a strip of the unbaked puff pastry along the middle of each stalk of asparagus. We brushed them with an egg wash and rolled them in Parmesan cheese.

When the dough on the pizza plate had puffed, I arranged strips of smoked salmon in a spiral design, and sprinkled the plate with strips of Gruyère so thin I could almost see through them. Both dishes went into the oven. I mixed sweet mango juice with the tea that had been steeping, added ice cubes, and we were set.

We carried the tea, tall glasses, paper napkins with a cupcake motif, and tiny hors d’oeuvre plates to my outdoor room. Francie was already lounging there comfortably, watching Daisy and Duke play in the grass. “I figured we’d be meeting out here. Poor Myra. She’s a good egg, but I think she’s extremely nervous.”

“Is Wong coming?” asked Nina.

“We decided that involving her might put her on the spot. None of us knew if it would be legal to send Myra in with a video camera. We were afraid Wong might try to stop us.” Francie accepted a glass of tea from me.

“A video camera?” I was surprised, but maybe it wasn’t a bad idea.

Humphrey and Myra showed up at that exact moment. “Something in your kitchen smells really great,” said Myra.

I said hello and hurried back inside, lest the appetizers burn. Fortunately, everything was fine. I pulled the trays out of the oven, arranged our little treats on square red ceramic serving platters with a yellow and green design around the edge, and carried them outside.

Myra was showing off the video camera. About an inch across and four inches long, it had been very neatly tucked into the breast pocket of a black jacket. Humphrey had cut a small hole into the fabric for the lens.

“It was Myra’s idea to pin that feathery thing on the pocket to disguise it,” he explained.

The bright pink flamingo and matching pink feather earrings that dangled to her shoulders looked more like Myra than the sedate black jacket. “It’s a shame you had to cut a hole in the pocket. Now the jacket is ruined.”

Myra examined the jacket she wore. “It’s not really my style. While Humphrey was out buying the spy camera this afternoon, I picked up the jacket at a thrift shop just for tonight. I figure I’ll have a handy spy jacket ready if I ever need one again.”

Although the sedate jacket wasn’t her style, she wore bright pink eye shadow in large swoops over her eyelids. Her spirited eyes were rimmed in black, and she had punched up the outfit with pink leggings that were so bright I wondered if they glowed in the dark. Her top glittered, partially hidden by the jacket, but I could definitely see swirls of pink and silver sequins.

“We’ll be monitoring her on my laptop,” said Humphrey. “We’ll see what she sees. If she feels afraid, if Maurice gets too frisky, then all she has to do is say . . .”

“I really should be going now.” Myra tilted her head and batted long false eyelashes at Humphrey. “That doesn’t sound too fake, does it?”

Nina helped herself to the appetizers. “I think it’s a perfect line. How many times have I said that—especially to men? Plus, you can repeat it over and over, and it still won’t sound suspicious.”

Francie ate a piece of the salmon puff and reached for more. “You can make this for me anytime. It’s delicious. I could make a meal out of it.”

“How did you get him to invite you, Myra?” I tried one of the asparagus spears and savored the saltiness, a welcome change after all those cupcakes.

Myra filled a plate and sat down. “That was easy. He comes by the mortuary every day. Instead of trying to avoid him like I usually do, I mentioned how lovely his house is. That’s actually true. It has a historical plaque just like yours. I love looking through these old houses and imagining all the people who lived in them so long ago.” She assessed us before she went on. “And I’m into ghosts.” She watched our reactions.

Francie didn’t even look up from her plate. “There’s one in Sophie’s kitchen. You’ll have to introduce her to Faye, Sophie.”

“Really?” Myra sat forward, and for a moment I thought she might run into the house.

“It’s not like she speaks or anything. Her existence is debatable,” said Humphrey.

“The only one who says she can hear Faye is her sister,” I clarified. “On the other hand, the medium who came to our Halloween séance claimed to see her. Then again, she made up some things that we knew were fabrications, so it’s hard to know what was true.”

“I find that so intriguing,” breathed Myra.

“It gives Myra a good excuse to ask for a tour of Maurice’s house. Wasn’t that smart of her?” Francie beamed at her.

“So what are Sophie and I supposed to do?” asked Nina.

“Francie and I will be in the car, parked near the front of the house. We’ll be able to see what Myra is seeing—on the laptop—and we can hear her if she needs us to get her out of there. Myra and I thought you and Sophie could check out the backyard for signs of Buddy while Myra distracts Maurice.”

“You mean we’re the poop patrol?” I couldn’t help laughing.

“And listen for him. He might growl or something when he hears me in the house,” said Myra. “Humphrey and I have been calling it Project Rescue Buddy.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad. The backyard isn’t fenced,” said Nina. “It should be a snap for us to check it out.”

Poor Myra would be doing the hard work. Keeping my eyes and ears open for any sign of Buddy, or his poop, was doable.

By the time we drove over to Maurice’s neighborhood, clouds had moved in, hastening the darkness. We could have walked, but if we found Buddy, we would need a car big enough to hold him, so I drove my hybrid SUV and parked a block away from Maurice’s house.

Streetlights illuminated the front of Maurice’s home nicely. Clad with blue siding, the house was two stories tall. I didn’t imagine there was much of an attic, since the roof was very nearly flat. Small windows just above the ground indicated a basement. His house appeared to be located on a corner, but instead of a side street, the road that ran along the side of his house was an alley. His home looked to be one of the larger houses in the immediate area but lacked the charm of neighboring homes with front porches and rocking chairs. Five steps that were perpendicular to the street led to a stoop and a drab gray door.

Stationed on the same side of the street, but a few doors down, Nina and I watched Myra park her car along the side of Maurice’s house. Humphrey and Francie were already parked across the street.

Myra walked up the steps and knocked on Maurice’s door. It opened, and she vanished inside.