The Blackmail Flour Trail: A Culinary Cozy Mystery (Slice of Paradise Cozy Mysteries Book 3) Read online

  Faith jumped up and squealed, and soon she and Laura were clutching each other, laughing with joy as the sound of the cheering crowd rang in their ears. Grandma Bessie, who had never really been forthcoming with hugs and kisses, punched the air with victory. “Yes! Brilliant work, girls.”

  Faith looked over Laura’s shoulder to see Nathan turned in their direction. Even all the way over by the thick gnarled trunk of the old mango tree, she could tell he was smiling broadly, and that made her heart bubble over more than ever.

  Soon Marigold had made her way over and held the microphone out to Faith. “So, Faith, tell us, how do you feel?”

  “Ecstatic!” Faith exclaimed. She couldn’t stop beaming. “We can’t wait until the final!” It was then she caught a glimpse of Nico clambering down over the speaker equipment at the front of the stage, toward the open arms of his simpering fans. Some of them were actually crying, and no doubt they wanted to take his bulging biceps in their arms and tell him he was the hero of the world in their eyes, no matter what.

  Marigold noticed, too. “Nico?” she said, concerned. “Nico, you’re not supposed to…”

  But he was already gone, over the edge of the stage and surrounded by fans like bees around a honeypot.

  Marigold looked back and made wide eyes at Faith. “Well, congratulations, ladies. You may leave the stage after you’ve gathered your things. By the proper designated side exit,” she said loudly, turning in Nico’s direction. Then she faced the huge crowd and threw her hands up in the air. “Thank you, everyone! That’s the end of the semifinal of the Cynthia Rochford Cupcake Marathon! See you next week for the final. Until then, enjoy yourselves with all the amazing food, drinks and bakeware on sale, and of course, the beautiful sunshine.”

  Laura, Faith and Grandma Bessie packed all their supplies away while Marigold switched off the mic and went to chat with the judges.

  “Yay!” Laura said, then began to sing, “We did it, we did it,” wiggling her hips in a funny little dance as she packed Faith’s silicone baking cups – in her favorite color teal, of course – back into one of their boxes.

  Faith giggled with happiness, then joined in, “We did it, we did it.”

  “Oh, cut that out,” Grandma Bessie said, but she couldn’t keep from smiling either. “It’s just a semifinal. Anyhow, I don’t know how well taking an award with that meddling old Cynthia Rochford’s name on it sits with me. Maybe we should just drop out.”

  But Faith could tell from the twinkle in Grandma Bessie’s eye that she was only saying it to keep up her profile as a grumpy, lovable cynic. Faith grinned at Laura. “Okay, let’s drop out.”

  Laura nodded and said seriously, “You’re right, Miss Bessie. We shouldn’t take the award since she was so rude to you.”

  Grandma Bessie paused, while Faith and Laura exchanged wicked grins.

  “Oh, well, maybe Cynthia wasn’t all that bad,” Grandma Bessie said eventually, and Laura and Faith had to keep themselves from laughing. “She was overbearing, but she did mean well, I’m sure of that much. And she always liked my white chocolate raspberry cupcakes. Sinfully decadent but with a light heavenly taste. That’s what she said. In 1978. June. The 4th, I think, as we were saying it was a month until the 4th of July.”

  “Your memory, Miss Bessie!” Laura exclaimed. “I think you’re getting even sharper in your old age.”

  “Old age?” Grandma Bessie said, offended. “I’ve got plenty of years to live yet. After this contest, I’m back to living the adventurous retirement life, thank you very much. I’ve subscribed to a blog, you know, Faith.”

  “Really?” Faith said, surprised. She’d had no idea Grandma Bessie even knew what a blog was. She’d always said how she didn’t like all the new fangled technology.

  Grandma Bessie nodded as she packed the bicarbonate of soda back into the box. “Viola showed me. There are lots of blogs I like actually, but this is my favorite. It’s by a girl called Jasmine, 25 she is. About traveling the world and trying new things. I took her advice and made a bucket list, she calls it, you know, things you want to do before you kick the bucket. So I’m afraid after we win this thing, I’m going to be rather busy.”

  Faith was overjoyed to hear her grandma so upbeat and enthusiastic about life, though she still did worry about her health. Hopefully the new knee would be the last operation she’d need in a good while. “What’ve you got planned, Grandma?”

  “I want to see a giraffe,” Grandma Bessie said. It sounded so random and she said it so decisively that Laura and Faith burst out laughing. “It’s not funny,” Grandma Bessie admonished. “I haven’t seen a giraffe or a tiger, or even an elephant, for that matter.”

  “So you’re going to go to the zoo?” Laura suggested.

  “No!” Grandma Bessie said scornfully. “I’m going to Kenya on safari! Just you wait, once I’ve got that pesky little op out the way I’ll be on the first plane out of here.”

  Faith paused, put her hand on her hip and shook her head, inspired by her grandma’s joie de vivre. “Grandma, you really are something else.”

  *****

  The Paradise Inn was within walking distance from Faith and Laura’s apartment building but it took around twenty minutes, and the next morning they both overslept. After the semifinal had wrapped up they’d gone over to the mango tree to chat to Nathan, and had milled through the stalls. Of course, Faith hadn’t been able to resist picking up some new baking equipment, even though she had enough of it already. Besides food, gas for their Chevy van, cat food and treats, and the occasional sundress, cooking gear was the only thing she ever spent money on. A cute little teal-colored bowl was the first thing she picked out – it was the perfect size to crack eggs into. She also got a teal-handled masher, which was actually something she hadn’t been able to find before. “Like for when you’re mashing up pumpkin,” she said to Laura, feeling a warm glow as the seller handed her a brown paper bag with her new tiny piece of heaven inside.

  After a full-on day, they’d headed back to Faith’s for the evening. Rush Hour 2 was on, a bit of a silly movie that Faith didn’t dislike. On any normal day she’d have flicked through the channels to find something better but she could only muster the energy to flop on the couch, and within ten minutes she’d fallen asleep.

  The next morning she was woken up by Laura hammering on her door. “Faith, Faith, I’ve been calling you! We’re late already. Faith!”

  Faith stumbled, bleary eyed, from her bed, which somehow she’d managed to get to. Then when she realized she wasn’t dreaming she snapped alert instantly. “Oh help!” She rushed to the front door to let Laura in.

  Laura burst in, her wispy blonde hair all over the place and the space under her eyes shadowed with gray. “Where are the Chevy keys?” she said, looking this way and that.

  Faith was already running back to the bedroom to find a fresh dress to put on. “Um… check by the couch. Oh man, I really don’t have time to shower?”

  “No!” Laura said, stressed. “Hit the deodorant and perfume and let’s get out of here. You know how Marigold is about being on time. She’ll kick us out of the contest if we rock up late. We have like… two minutes. Two minutes?!”

  Faith struggled into the first sundress she could lay her hands on – a deep blue one that reminded her of the ocean. “Just a sec!” she called out, hurrying over to a body mist can and squirting out a cloud of it. She closed her mouth and tipped her head back as the sweet, fruity smell encircled her. “I’m good to go.”

  “Got the keys,” Laura said, snatching them up. “Let’s get out of here.”

  *****

  “What the…?” Faith said, hopping out of the passenger seat of the Chevy van, staring at the squad cars that flashed and wailed in the Paradise Inn parking lot.

  Laura hurried after her, with the jangle of the keys coming out of the ignition and a slam of the Chevy door.

  A straggle of people from the street were looking on, peering into the parking lot. Dep
uty Tyler Valdez was shooing them all away, his movements as stiff as usual and his voice with all the softness of a rod of steel. “Vacate the area immediately. Vacate the area immediately.”

  “Look,” Laura said, pointing to him, and started jogging toward him.

  Faith jogged behind. “Anyone but him.”

  “He’ll tell us what’s going on.”

  “He’ll throw us in jail, more like,” Faith muttered. She still hadn’t quite been able to get over his previous antics. Whenever there was a murder in town, he seemed to home in on Faith as his prime suspect.

  “Miss Edwards,” he said to Laura, with clipped formality. They had almost been an item, back when she had admired his dedication to his job, and had mistaken coldness for being reliable.

  “Tyler, what’s going on?” she said.

  “Miss Franklin,” the Deputy said, with an overexaggerated nod.

  “Morning, Deputy,” Faith replied, not wanting to meet his eyes. They were cold, glacier cold, and had always made her feel strange.

  He shook his head, then informed them with cold clarity, “I’m afraid Ms. Wilhelmina Roby has been killed.”

  *****

  Chapter 3

  “Killed?” Faith repeated, and then reality began to close around her, all too quickly, like a rope tightening around her neck. They would be the prime suspects, wouldn’t they? Because they had been to face Wilhelmina in the final. Kill her off, and maybe they’d become the automatic winners.

  She looked up to see Deputy Valdez staring at her with his cold blue eyes. “Yes, Miss Franklin,” he said. “Killed.”

  Laura burst into tears, then instantly tried to reign them back. “Oh, it’s just… Oh!”

  Faith hugged her. Laura had a tendency to burst into tears, over far less than a murder. Even some commercials would push her over the edge, particularly if they featured animals or kids who were suffering. Or even if they were happy, for that matter. Tears of sadness, tears of joy, it was all Laura’s specialty. “It’s okay,” Faith soothed.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Laura said, wiping her eyes. “It’s just that… well, everything was going so well, and then…” She pulled away from Faith and straightened up. “I’m okay, really. It’s Ms. Roby we should all be thinking about right now.”

  “Murder can be an upsetting business,” Deputy Valdez said, looking exceedingly uncomfortable. “But what is important now is finding the killer.”

  “How did she die?” Faith asked.

  “Vacate the area immediately,” Deputy Valdez said to some curious passersby, with a passionless hand movement that made him look like a traffic warden. “Miss Franklin, I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that you are not permitted to get involved in the case. You are a baker. I am a Deputy Sheriff. The very names of these roles quite clearly indicate who should be doing the investigating, and who should be attending to their duties in their café.”

  The way he said the words baker and café, like he had a bad smell under his nose, made Faith lose her temper. “So when will you be coming by said café to arrest me, said baker?” she said hotly. “We might as well cut to the chase.”

  Laura said, “Faith—”

  But Deputy Valdez was already shooting back a freezing cold stare at Faith. “Should I take that as an admission of guilt, Miss Franklin?”

  “No!” Laura said. “Please, stop this, both of you.”

  “If I have to investigate to make sure our names are clear, I will, I can promise you that,” Faith said in a firm voice, surprising herself with her own audacity. She wasn’t usually big on confrontation, but that man… Urgh. He just made her blood boil.

  “Come on, Faith,” Laura said, steering her toward the hotel entrance. “Let’s go.”

  “You are not permitted to investigate,” the Deputy Sheriff called after them. “And if you do, Miss Franklin, I’ll—”

  His threat was cut off as the heavy glass door into the hotel lobby swung shut behind them.

  “That guy!” Faith said. She paced for a moment, then flopped down into one of the cushy chairs. “How you were ever into him is beyond me. Totally beyond me.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Laura said. “Stop bringing that up, will you?”

  “Sorry.”

  In an attempt to calm down, Faith looked around. The lobby was all polished wooden floors and dim golden light and bronze sconces and accessories. But with the staff from the Sheriff’s department standing around, and the young man at the front desk nervously chewing on the side of his finger, jumping at any sign of movement, there was certainly no relaxing ambience.

  Faith shivered, feeling the reality of the situation hit her. Wilhelmina had been murdered. Already Faith’s mind was rounding up a list of suspects – she couldn’t seem to help it. But as each of the faces of everyone involved flashed through her mind, she knew she didn’t know anything about any of them, really. Nico put all his info out there on his blog, but that was a public persona, not the man inside. Of course she’d gleaned a little about Marigold from Grandma Bessie’s not-so-happy old days with Cynthia, too, but everything else was a huge blur.

  At that moment, Marigold came down the stairs. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a workmanlike ponytail, and her ever-present thick rimmed glasses and tottery high heels were… well, present. She actually smiled at Laura and Faith as she picked her way down the last few steps, then strode up to them, full of confidence and purpose.

  “Good morning,” she said. “Where’s Miss Bessie then?”

  “Oh, she couldn’t make it, and sends her apologies,” Faith said quickly. A total lie, unfortunately, but a necessary one. Grandma Bessie had said in no uncertain terms that she was more than happy to bake, but wouldn’t put up with any chinwagging or paper pushing Marigold tried to tack onto it.

  Marigold gave a smile. “At least you’re here.”

  She looked so remarkably unrattled that Faith assumed she didn’t know what had gone on. “Did you… did you just come down for the morning?” Faith asked gently, standing up.

  “Oh, goodness, no!” Marigold chirped. “I get up at 5am every single day. I’ve already had a two hour gym session, a rather long shower, and a leisurely breakfast. Then I continued to plan for this week’s activities and, of course, the final on Saturday.”

  Faith looked at Laura, biting her lip.

  “Um, Marigold?” Laura said. “Um… didn’t you wonder why all these police are here?”

  “Oh, that,” Marigold said, adjusting the folder she had under her arm and pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Well, yes, I know what happened this morning. Or last night. Or whenever. We can’t let that deter us from our plans and goals though, can we? Unfortunately, many people die every day. Life goes on, as they always say. And there’s a reason why they always say it.”

  Faith was stunned. “She was murdered, Marigold.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Marigold said quickly. “Now, it’s time everyone stopped talking about it and got on with everything for the Cupcake Marathon. We’ve already had to push the meeting back, and I don’t see why we should for any longer. The Sheriff’s Department are taking care of the incident. Anything we do is just going to get in their way.” Before Laura or Faith could reply, she’d turned to the scared looking desk clerk and said, “Is the room arranged and ready?”

  He watched her with terrified eyes for a moment, then snapped back into customer service mode, putting his hands behind his back and manufacturing a smile. “Yes, ma’am, it certainly is. Would you like me to lead you and your guests there?”

  “No, thank you,” Marigold said. “But call every member of the party, and tell them the meeting is to begin now and they must all attend.” Then she turned back to Faith and Laura. “Come on, let’s go.”

  *****

  Marigold stood at the head of the conference room, a smile plastered onto her face. “Everyone, I expect us to carry on with the contest duties as normal tomorrow. Today you are relieved of yo
ur duties, though, if you wish. I, however, will be working, so anyone who wishes to discuss the week’s activity in more detail is welcome to come to me and we’ll have a little chat.”

  Faith looked around the room at everyone, to see how they reacted. Also, if she was honest, to see if she could scope out who the murderer was.

  Nico was bleary eyed, and had his bronzed tattooed arm draped around a simpering brunette superfan who looked like her entire life purpose was dedicated to worshipping him. She cuddled up under his hulking great arm and kept looking up at him, fluttering her eyelashes. She didn’t seem perturbed by his heavy lidded stare and slightly less perfect than usual appearance. He gave her a little kiss on the nose and her eyes rolled like she was in heaven. Faith couldn’t help wrinkling her nose watching it.

  A similar, though less affectionate, arrangement was going on by Chad and Tamalynn. Her eyes kept darting everywhere, and a crunch of the gravel outside as a car passed made her flinch violently. Chad sat like a statue, his hand around her shoulder. She kept glancing to him for reassurance, but it was like he didn’t see. His eyes were glazed over. Faith realized then that she didn’t really know much about them, other than they’d relocated from the south to NYC the previous year.

  The Baking Babes had headed home right after the contest the previous night, Faith had heard Karen say furiously to Chad when they’d walked in. “Bet you’re ecstatic, now, aren’t you?” she’d hissed at him, and he’d not even looked at her.

  “Fine,” Karen said to Marigold. “I’m happy to stay and judge. But we need to get the Baking Babes back for the final.”

  Marigold gave her a semi-sympathetic smile and said, “I’m afraid not, Karen. Based on the aggregated scores, Nico actually scored more highly. He’ll be the one going through.”

  “Yes!” Nico said, jumping to his feet and punching the air, his elbow hitting his superfan in the head in the process. He didn’t even notice.