The Diva Frosts a Cupcake (6 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Dear Sophie,

I’m always seeing flyers about lost pets. It would break my heart if I couldn’t find one of my fur babies. How can I protect them?

—Worried Mom in Catts Corner, Maryland

Dear Worried Mom,

A collar is the place to start. Hang a tag on it with your contact information. They also make tags with QR (Quick Response) codes that can be scanned with a smartphone to access your contact information. Or consider a microchip implant, so that veterinarians, shelters, and rescue groups can contact you if they find your pet.

—Sophie

“Maurice!” Francie breathed the name that jumped to my mind.

“How could that have happened?” I asked.

“I bet he kicked you on purpose,” said Francie. “To create a distraction.”

“Bernie, you stay here, because you don’t know what Buddy looks like.” Nina motioned to Spenser, Francie, and me in a frantic gesture. “Everyone spread out. Maybe they’re still here.”

Seemed unlikely. If I had swiped a dog, I would have left the area immediately. But we had to try. It was our only hope.

I took the outer perimeter of booths, peering over tables and under cloths. Anyone could have marched Buddy out without a soul noticing. There were dogs of every shape and size in every direction I looked.

Joy, newly of Sugar Mama Cupcakes and Renee’s former business partner and roommate, exclaimed over my eye. A ponytail the color of dark mocha hung halfway down her back. She must have been planning the split from Renee for some time, because she already wore a blue and brown apron imprinted with the words
Sugar Mama
.

I promised her that my eye wasn’t too bad. “I’m so sorry about Muffin. It’s a terrible tragedy.”

Her brown eyes reflected true sorrow and were rimmed red from crying. “I begged her to leave Renee and come with me. I can’t help wondering if she would be alive now if she had.”

The thought sent chills down my back. It must have been a major decision for Muffin. If only she had chosen differently. But no one could have anticipated that she would die because she stayed with Renee. And we didn’t know what had happened. Maybe her killer would have sought her out across the street at Sugar Mama.

I wanted to dally longer, but we had no time to lose. “One of the dogs that was up for adoption is missing. We’re looking for him. A big black and tan dog, wearing a yellow bandanna with pink cupcakes. Let me know if you spot him.”

“Oh no. Poor baby. Nick! Nick?”

Like magic, Nick emerged from the crowd. I’d seen him around town. His pretty boy face, smoldering eyes, and easy smile made him very hard to ignore. Joy told him about Buddy, and I described the dog to him.

“I’ll scout around. If I see him, I’ll bring him to the adoption booth.”

Thanking them, I hurried on. Dog owners had brought their best friends with them. Dogs were everywhere I looked. Still, among all the dogs, there was no sign of Buddy.

I trudged back to the adoption booth, fearing the others had as little success as I. Their grim expressions confirmed the worst. No one had seen Maurice or Buddy.

“How could he have pulled that off?” asked Francie. “We were all here. How is it possible that no one noticed him?”

Nina scowled. “He must have been watching us, and moved fast when I had my back turned to deal with the cats and you two left for a few minutes. I never did like that man.”

She pulled out her cell phone. “I’m calling Wong. She saw how he acted and that he tried to take Buddy without my consent before. Maybe she can go to his house and demand Buddy’s return. I’m so sorry, Spenser!”

He nodded, but the disappointment on his face made his feelings painfully clear. He’d been taken by that dog.

Bernie offered him a sandwich.

Spenser took it and thanked him. He sat down in one of our chairs and held the sandwich in his hands. “They say trouble comes in threes. This was number three for me today. I only saw one of them coming.”

“What’s going on between you and Maurice?” Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, but the words came out of my mouth before I considered them.

Spenser turned his sandwich around in his hands as though he was studying it, but I had the feeling he wasn’t seeing it.

“He blames me for his misfortune, but I’ve never done a thing to the man.”

“I got hold of Wong,” Nina announced. “Spenser, want to come with us?”

He reflected for a moment, before saying, “Maybe it will go better if he doesn’t see me.”

Nina took a selection of sandwich halves with her to share with Wong and left me in charge of the booth. So far I’d managed to make a royal mess of things.

Bernie and Spenser went back to work, and a darling boy fell in love with the dog with the brown spot around her eye.

I hitched a leash onto her collar. She couldn’t have been more than six months old and wanted to kiss everyone. Fortunately, she kissed the right little boy. His dad filled out the adoption form while I waited with the boy and his mom, kneeling next to the puppy. A masculine hand with strong fingers slid over the puppy’s head and ever so briefly grazed my hand.

Alex had squatted on the other side of the puppy. His eyes opened wide in shock when he saw my eye. “Are you all right? That looks painful.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not!” We looked up at Natasha, who was showing off her bandaged right arm. “I don’t understand why she bites me.”

“Where
is
Martha?” I asked.

“Right here. Isn’t this the smartest thing?” She pulled a dog stroller from behind her. Martha growled and bit at the mesh front.

I could imagine great uses for them, but this puppy needed to wear herself out by walking and running. At least she wouldn’t escape again.

“I brought you a little present,” she trilled, handing Alex a box wrapped in her signature robin’s-egg blue and tied with a lacy bow. “It’s a DVD of my best shows.”

Alex stood up and accepted it graciously, pecking her on the cheek.

“Maybe you’d like to come to the studio with me one day? And you simply must come to dinner while you’re visiting. I’ll set it up with the general.”

“Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Did Sophie tell you I was a beauty queen?”

“She must have forgotten to mention that. I can’t say I’m surprised.”

I admired his deft handling of Natasha, but she irritated me. She already had Mars. Would she
never
go away?

“Look over there. Isn’t that a photographer from the newspaper?” It was a lie. A terrible, mean thing to do. But it worked. Natasha spun that stroller around faster than Superman could fly and propelled it across the plaza.

“Is this your dog?” Alex asked the little boy.

The boy gazed up at his mom for reassurance. Nodding, he wrapped his arms around the puppy’s neck.

“What are you going to name her?” asked Nick.

“Princess Isabella von Humperdink,” the boy answered without hesitation.

His mother smiled. “I’m thinking Bella.”

I promised their application for adoption would be on the top of the pile. When they walked away, Alex promised I would keep Bella for the boy.

Francie had a twinkle in her eye and nudged me. “He’s adorable!” she whispered.

I knew she didn’t mean the kid. Alex seemed too nice to be true.

Francie held out her hand. “I’m Sophie’s neighbor, Francine Vanderhoosen. What’s your marital status, young fellow?”

I wanted to dive under the table with Daisy. She had other ideas, though, and belly-crawled toward Alex to sniff his shoes.

He reached down to pat her and didn’t seem a bit perturbed by Francie’s nosiness. “I’m separated from my wife.”

To anyone else, that might have been a good thing, but to me it meant he wasn’t available yet.

Francie crossed her arms over her chest. “Hmpff. And what is it you do for a living?”

His grin was enchanting. How dare he be so charming when he wasn’t single yet?

Clearly amused by Francie’s question, he said, “I’m an attorney in Richmond. Three hamsters, two step-kids, one cockapoo. My mom taught fifth grade, my dad was a CPA. They’re retired now and spend half the year in a fancy motor home. I make a Bloody Mary that you won’t believe, and I’m an expert on the barbecue grill, if I do say so myself. Did I omit anything?”

“You seeing anybody?” She observed him with a dubious squint.

“If you need a date for the cupcake feast tomorrow night, I would be honored to escort you.”

Francie, his senior by a good twenty or more years, tucked her head and wiggled her hand in embarrassment. “Pick me up at five thirty. I don’t want to be late and miss out on anything.”

Alex wrote down directions to her house and promised to be on time.

As he walked away, she leveled a stern look at me. “If you don’t date that boy, I will!”

By the time Nina returned an hour later, several adoptions awaited her approval.

“Well?” Francie and I couldn’t contain ourselves, even though we were eager to see the other dogs and cats in homes.

“He claims he doesn’t have Buddy.” Nina smiled at people waiting to adopt, and started processing their applications. “He refused to let us into his house. If Buddy was there, he wasn’t barking.”

My heart sank. What had he done with that poor dog? Was Buddy wandering the streets? I had to push away thoughts of what might happen to him.

In a slow trickle, we emptied the dog pen and the cat cages.

The timing proved perfect. The next shift arrived with new dogs and cats for adoption.

Nina whispered to me, “I’ve never been so glad to turn anything over to someone else. I’m beat.”

She told them the heartbreaking news about Buddy. “Watch out for Maurice Lester. He’s tall and gangly with white hair that hangs down to his chin. Don’t be fooled—he doesn’t like dogs. Do not allow him to adopt any animals and keep an eye on him. I can’t imagine that he would steal another dog, but you never know. Also, I’ve been told not to adopt to Nick Rigas, but I’m not sure about the validity of that one, so if he comes along wanting to adopt, have him fill out the adoption form and tell him you’ll get back to him.”

She smoothed the fur on Daisy’s head. “I know you’re exhausted . . . and you’ve been through a terrible trauma today, but could you please help me put up missing flyers about Buddy?” Nina cocked her head at us with the saddest expression I’d ever seen.

“Don’t be silly. I’m behind you all the way.” I couldn’t bear the thought of what might be happening to Buddy.

Nina handed me her phone. Would you round up some volunteers? I’m going to set up a flyer and make copies across the street. I’ll meet you back here.”

“I’m going to stretch my legs and buy some treats for Duke. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” said Francie. The set of her mouth told me she was determined to find the missing dog.

I headed to the Sugar Baby booth to recruit Humphrey, but on the way I spied a cute cat hammock for my Ocicat, Mochie. A throwback to one of his American shorthair ancestors, Mochie’s fur didn’t have spots. He had the classic M on his forehead and spots on his tummy, though. The hammock had the Ocelot-type spots Mochie lacked, and I thought he would enjoy the comfort of the hanging bed.

I paid for it and hurried on to Sugar Baby. Humphrey had put up the closed sign.

“Are you wrapping up here?” I asked. “Nina’s putting together a posse to post flyers about Buddy.”

“I heard about that. Maurice is a menace! The nerve of him to steal a dog! Sure, I’ll help. There’s not much I can do here. Nina hired someone to keep an eye on the booths overnight, so I’m not breaking it down yet. I can’t imagine that Renee will have cupcakes to sell tomorrow, but I also don’t know where to take all this stuff. Do you think the cops would let her bring it into the bakery?”

I doubted it. “Probably not while it’s a crime scene. You haven’t heard from Renee?”

“Not yet. I went over there a little while ago to see what was going on, but I couldn’t get in.” He leaned toward me and spoke in a low tone. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

CHAPTER NINE

Dear Sophie,

Everyone in my family raves about my cupcakes. I’m baking four hundred for my niece’s wedding, but I’m a little nervous because I’m not used to making so many at once. I hate to be up all night before the wedding to bake them. Is there an easy way to bake a lot of cupcakes at once?

—Overwhelmed in Bride’s Hill, Alabama

Dear Overwhelmed,

Some bakers freeze cupcakes when they have to bake a large quantity. Many cupcakes thaw very well and will taste freshly baked. However, it’s best not to frost them until the day they’ll be served.

—Sophie

“What is it that women see in a guy like Nick Rigas?” asked Humphrey.

Across the plaza, Nick was eyeing cupcakes at Sugar Mama’s booth. Joy Bickford opened a box of cupcakes and showed him the contents. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but Nick selected one.

Joy ran her fingers around her neck and laughed.

Nick said a few more words and moved on without paying, wolfing the cupcake in four bites.

“Is it his hair?” asked Humphrey.

Nick had been blessed with an abundance of dark hair. Medium height and not particularly athletic-looking, he lacked some of the typical attributes thought to be particularly handsome. Women coveted his long, lush eyelashes. His warm chocolate eyes coupled with an easy grin that made everyone feel special. “Humphrey, I think it’s the smile. There’s something boyish and captivating about it.” I watched as Nick turned his charm on a woman who was old enough to be his grandmother. She giggled at something he said and swiped a hand through the air in his direction.

Humphrey grimaced at me like a jack-o’-lantern.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was my boyish smile.”

“Don’t do that! You’ll frighten women away.”

He slumped. Unfortunately for Humphrey, Nick was still in my line of sight. “Maybe it’s not the smile. Nick carries himself as though he expects everyone to like him. There’s a comfortable assuredness about him.” Of course, it didn’t hurt that his features came together in a remarkably appealing way.

Humphrey frowned. “How do I do that?” He turned his head slightly, raised his chin, and posed with his hands held waist high, palms down.

“Now you look conceited and like you’re trying to keep people away from you. Just relax and be yourself.”

“Being myself hasn’t worked. I think I’d be better off trying to be someone else for a while.”

I pulled him into a big hug. “I don’t know why you think that. It’s obvious that Myra likes you just the way you are.”

“Eh, Myra.” He spoke her name like he was talking about broccoli.

I made a few phone calls to friends, asking them if they would help post flyers about Buddy. Half an hour later, Spenser, Mars, Bernie, Francie, Humphrey, Nick, and a host of our Old Town friends met to pick up flyers. Humphrey had drawn a grid of Old Town. He assigned each person an area, and we all dispersed with flyers in hand. Humphrey had thoughtfully given elderly Francie the route back to the block where we lived. I drew the area behind Market Square, along North Pitt Street and North St. Asaph Street.

Word about Muffin had spread quickly through Old Town. As I popped into stores, asking them to post the flyer, everyone inquired about Muffin and about my eye, which, from the comments, must have become considerably more pronounced.

Daisy and I dragged home, exhausted. Mochie, who had slept all day, met us at the door, full of energy.

I set his new hammock on the tile floor in the sunroom. He circled it, examining it from all sides before he jumped into it. But when I set out a fresh bowl of kitty salmon, he readily abandoned the hammock for his dinner.

I curled up on the loveseat in the sunroom for a nap, but no sooner had I dozed off than someone slammed the knocker on my front door. I dragged myself to the door and opened it to find Detective Kenner.

His usual disapproving expression turned to a mix of wonder and horror at the sight of me. “What happened to you?”

“Don’t worry. I have witnesses. It had nothing to do with Muffin’s death.” Once my nemesis, he no longer frightened me. I held out my arms and he readily hugged me. I invited him in, but Daisy growled at him.

“Why doesn’t your dog like me?”

“They say dogs are good judges of character.”

A hint of a grin emerged, softening the hollows under his cheekbones.

“Could I offer you some tea or coffee?”

“No, thanks. Busy day. Tell me what happened at Sugar Baby.”

He sat down at my kitchen table. Daisy sat next to me, her gaze never wavering from Kenner. I ran through the details for him.

“Can you be any more precise about the times when Humphrey or Renee left Market Square?”

“I wasn’t watching them or a clock. All I can tell you is that she was alive when we delivered the desk.”

“Thanks. Does Francie still live next door?”

“Absolutely.”

I walked him to the front door.

“I don’t see much of you anymore,” he said.

“Trying to keep my nose clean and stay out of trouble.”

He nodded. “Try harder.”

I closed the door behind him and gave up on napping. A peek into the fridge revealed a beautiful flank steak that I’d forgotten about. If I knew Nina, she would order takeout for dinner or just eat four cupcakes and call it a day. When I phoned her, she and Humphrey were still at Market Square. I felt like a sloth. The least I could do was feed them.

Dusk was beginning to fall over Old Town when Humphrey, Nina, and I gathered in my outdoor room. Humphrey insisted on building a fire but clearly had never achieved a Boy Scout merit badge for fire building.

I coached him on the use of kindling, but I could tell he wasn’t paying attention. “Are you thinking about Muffin?”

“Sophie, I deal with death every day. I’ve come to terms with it for the most part. But Muffin shouldn’t be in the morgue yet. She wasn’t meant to be there. Someone snuffed her out, but I can’t imagine why. It can’t have been for money, because she didn’t have anything.” He stood up. “We have to find out who it was.
We have to!
”

I wasn’t altogether keen on his use of the word
we
in that context.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Nina stirred an icy concoction in a pitcher. “I hope you don’t mind, Sophie. I used the rest of your strawberries in the margaritas.”

She poured drinks for the three of us and settled into a chaise longue.

Humphrey switched on the little lights in the lofted ceiling overhead while I placed the steak on the grill. Potatoes had been baking for almost an hour, slathered in butter, sprinkled with salt, and wrapped in aluminum foil. I had marinated the flank steak briefly in bourbon, oil, sea salt, and freshly ground pepper. A raid of the refrigerator had yielded the ingredients for a salad of fresh baby spinach leaves, sliced strawberries, red onion, and creamy avocado, with a strawberry and orange blossom honey vinaigrette.

“I don’t mean to sound self-centered,” said Nina. “Let’s face it—Muffin was murdered—it doesn’t get worse than that. But honestly, if I could find the person who did it, I’d wring his neck myself. You can’t imagine what a ruckus this has caused in regard to the dinner tomorrow night.”

“So we’ll have fewer cupcakes,” I said. “Surely everyone will understand. Is Joy still baking her cupcakes? She knew Muffin very well, having worked with her.”

“Not only is Joy baking her cupcakes, but Renee will be presenting cupcakes, too.”

Humphrey gasped. “Renee is baking anyway?”

“Turns out they were already done,” said Nina. “Get this. She baked her cupcakes in advance and froze them. All she needs to do is frost them.”

“Are they still at the bakery?” I asked.

“Spenser is so generous. He’s setting her up in the Old Town branch of Cake My Day.” Nina poured herself another drink. “Wong and one of the detectives accompanied her to be sure she didn’t destroy evidence when she removed the frozen cupcakes from Sugar Baby. I think that was just a formality, or maybe a way to get her to loosen up. They probably peppered her with questions the whole time. But don’t you think that’s suspicious? That she baked them in advance and froze them?”

Humphrey scooted so far forward on his chair that he almost fell off. “Are you suggesting that she baked the cupcakes in advance because she knew Muffin would be murdered?”

Nina tilted her head from side to side. “Just sayin’. Plus, I would have been a wreck. I can promise you that if someone close to me had been murdered, I would not be producing cupcakes for a banquet the following day. No way.”

“Did you know that Renee is a micro-manager? One of those people who is always a step ahead of the game?” A defensive edge had crept into Humphrey’s tone.

Time for me to jump in. “I hate to spoil your theory, Nina. But a lot of bakeries bake very large orders ahead of time and freeze them. It’s not that unusual.”

She seemed disappointed. “Maybe so. But would they deliver cupcakes the following day?”

“Stop that!” shouted Humphrey. “You’re making it sound as though Renee killed Muffin.”

Nina met his eyes dead on but didn’t deny it.

He lowered his voice. “She couldn’t have. She was busy at her booth.”

“Humphrey, sweetheart,” Nina drawled soothingly in her North Carolina accent, “once you left to pick up the desk, I don’t think anyone watched her constantly. I know for a fact that she put up the closed sign for a few minutes. I guessed she slipped off to the restroom, but I
don’t
really know. I didn’t go with her.”

“That would have been very daring of her, Nina.” Using tongs, I placed the hot potatoes on a plate and the steak on a carving board and carried them over to the table. “She knew we would be bringing the desk. It wouldn’t make sense for her to risk being caught. If she had planned to kill Muffin, wouldn’t she have waited a day or even a week to have the desk delivered?”

“All the more reason to shove poor little Muffin under the bed.” Nina unwrapped her potato, sliced it open, and plunked a pat of butter inside. “Did she know you were going for the desk right then?” She gasped. “What if Renee planned to pin it on Humphrey? If he had brought the desk all by himself, he would have been the prime suspect.” She leaned over the table toward Humphrey. “It’s just lucky that Sophie and Spenser were with you!”

From his expression, I gathered Humphrey wasn’t at all pleased with the discussion. “I don’t think anyone could have carried that desk up the stairs by himself. Sorry, Nina. You’re wrong this time.”

“Don’t be so sure. There are rumors that Muffin and Renee were after the same man. After all, they were arguing in Renee’s bedroom.”

The candle on the table flickered.

Humphrey hadn’t taken the first bite of his dinner. “What man? How do you know they were arguing?”

“Spenser heard them.”

“He only heard Muffin.” Humphrey’s chest puffed up. “That’s nothing but an assumption!”

I mustered a calm voice. “There are also rumors that Renee and Joy split because of a man. You can’t believe everything you hear. Muffin could have been arguing with Joy or, for that matter, Spenser himself.”

Only after I’d spoken did it dawn on me that Humphrey might have been the man who came between them. Surely not.

“That’s ridiculous,” said Humphrey. “How could Spenser hear himself?”

“What if he’s lying?” I asked. “What if he said he heard an argument in case someone else heard him arguing with Muffin?”

“You mean he could have left his car there on purpose knowing he would return? It gave him an excuse to be at the scene of the murder!” Humphrey gripped a steak knife in his fist like a weapon.

Poor Humphrey needed to eat. I turned the conversation to the cupcake dinner the next night. In spite of our lovely meal and spring air that held the promise of warm summer nights, Muffin’s death hung over us, dampening our spirits.

We broke up early since we were all exhausted and the next day would be busy. I had returned to the outdoor table to retrieve the remaining dishes when I heard Daisy’s collar tags jangle. She loped to the back gate. It creaked open, reminding me to oil the hinges. In the shadows of falling darkness, I made out a stocky figure entering my yard and closing the gate behind him in haste, as though he was trying to avoid detection.