Muffins & Murder (Sweet Bites Book 3) (Sweet Bites Mysteries) (10 page)

That broke me out of my shock. “Um, excuse me. Have a good day, Ben,” I said before turning away and going into the kitchen.

“It looked like you might need rescuing,” Lenny said in a low voice when I walked close. He watched me for a second. “Are you sorry I pulled you away? He seems nice enough. I guess.” His nose wrinkled. “If you’re into that smooth, suave type.”

Before I could answer he tipped his head. “Then again, you seem to like Shawn, and he fits that description, doesn’t he?”

“You say that like Ben and Shawn must be snakes.”

“Fine. Throw away things with Jack now they’re finally starting to go somewhere and go out with that joker instead. He’s not good enough for you.” He’d never liked Shawn, either, from the moment they met. But maybe that was because Shawn worked for border patrol and Lenny wasn’t a big fan of cops.

“And you’re a judge of who’s right for me because?” I put my hands on my hips, still not sure why I was angry with him. I really wasn’t interested in Ben.

Lenny lifted his hands defensively. “Sorry, I’ll butt out.”

“Good.”

The door chimed again and I whirled back to the front to greet the customer—not smiling this time—until I saw Marge hobble in.

“What’s with the scowl? With a look like that, it’s a wonder you ever get customers in here,” she chided.

I sucked in a deep breath and let go of my irritation, greeting my late grandma’s closest friend. Despite her advanced age, she still ran her gift shop across the street. “Hey, Marge. Sorry. Sometimes I wish I’d hired a sweet teenager right out of high school instead of an opinionated assistant pastry chef.” I said this part a little louder for Lenny to hear me.

“I love you too, Tess,” he called back even louder.

The guys in suits snickered.

Marge shook her head. “You two are a funny pair. I thought I could use a snack and figured I’d see if you needed help with your research.”

I had all the help I could stand, but then again, Marge knew everyone and everything in town. She always gave me new perspectives when we spoke. “Sounds great. Maybe I can get a couple of minutes to sit with you.”

The men stood and moved for the door, leaving us nearly alone. I set out her treat and wiped down a couple of tables that had emptied recently. I grabbed some water to sip while we talked. “What’s on your mind?” I asked.

“Fill me in on what you know.”

It took a few minutes to describe the ins and outs, but soon she was up to date. “Cole seems like a great person to pin this all on, but I just don’t buy it,” I said. “I keep gravitating back to Connie. Mostly because I don’t like her attitude. That’s a pretty terrible reason to pin her as the killer.”

Marge nibbled on her cookie. “What about her husband?”

That confused me. “But he doesn’t seem psycho about the school pageant.”

“No. I mean, he works as a telemarketer, right? So his schedule might not be nine-to-five like most people’s. Maybe he’s the one who took his daughter to practice on Friday, not Connie, leaving her free to take care of her little problem.”

“I never thought of that.” I sat back in my chair and considered it. “It gives me one more avenue to look into, anyway.”

“I’ll see what I can find out.” Her eyes twinkled with anticipation. “And don’t worry, you’ll figure it out. You always do.” She shifted gears. “Now, do you guys need any more help with the wedding, or is it all under control?”

This was a topic I found far less confusing. Lenny joined us and we discussed what was left to get everything ready for that weekend.

Dough

1 Tbsp yeast

1 Tbsp sugar

1/4 cup warm water

1 cup buttermilk

2 eggs beaten

2/3 cups sugar

1/2 cup butter, softened

1/4 tsp baking soda

4 cups flour

1 tsp salt

Cinnamon filling

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 tsp cinnamon

2 Tbsp melted butter-separate

Sprinkle 1 Tbsp sugar and yeast over the warm water and set aside for five minutes or until frothy.

In the main mixing bowl mix eggs, butter and remaining sugar. Stir in buttermilk and yeast mixture then add the baking soda and salt to half of the flour and stir into the batter. Add the rest of the flour slowly until the dough forms a ball. Knead the dough on the counter for five minutes, or use your mixer’s knead setting. Cover and set aside for an hour or until it has doubled in size.

Dump onto clean counter, lightly floured, and roll it out to a 9 x 12 rectangle. Pour the melted butter onto it and spread it around, then sprinkle with cinnamon sugar filling mixture. Roll it up and slice into 3/4-1” slices. Set out in 9x13 pan or cookie sheet so the sides don’t quite touch. Cover with plastic wrap and allow to rise in a warm spot for another hour or so.

Bake in a preheated oven at 350 degrees for 20 minutes or until turning golden brown.

Powdered sugar glaze

1 1/2 cup powdered sugar

1/2 Tbsp butter, softened

2 Tbsp water

Mix the sugar, butter and water until . Wait until cinnamon rolls completely cool before frosting.

When I had another lull at work, I pulled up the email Ali had sent me with the names of the people whose booths had been closest to Francine’s. It took nearly twenty minutes to track down their phone numbers and leave messages.

It was early afternoon before I got my first call back. Grace Watts was a kindergarten aid and had been running the beanbag toss. “Hi, Grace,” I greeted after she introduced herself. “I appreciate you calling me back so fast.”

“I wondered why you’d be calling me.” Her voice was distracted.

“Yes, I wondered if you saw anything the night of the carnival. Anything at all that seemed, I don’t know, off somehow.”

“Not unless you count not seeing Francine for the last twenty minutes or so before it all cleaned up. She was supposed to help me break down my booth afterward, but then she didn’t show. I admit, I feel bad that I didn’t go looking for her—it would have meant helping her with her booth too and I really just wanted to get home to bed.”

“I know the feeling. So you didn’t see anyone around who might have been out of place? Anything odd?” I was really hoping for something useful.

“No. I wish I could help you more.” Her voice was wistful and a little sad.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” I said goodbye and hung up, discouraged.

It was nearly an hour later before the PTA secretary finally returned my call. She had a milk bottle knock-down booth on the other side of Francine’s. “Hi, I’m so glad you called,” she greeted me as soon as she introduced herself. “We’re going to need refreshments for the meeting in the morning. I just know I would have forgotten. Sarah Mae is rather partial to your gingerbread cupcakes, but Iva Lou likes the chocolate ones. Do you think we could get a dozen of each for me to pick up by eight tomorrow?”

My head was reeling from the abrupt change from what I
thought
the conversation was going to be about. “Sure.” I grabbed an order pad and jotted down the information.

“Why did you call me?” Melanie asked when I’d gotten all the particulars.

“I wondered if you saw anyone or anything out of place at the carnival.”

She sighed. “I already spoke to the detective and told him I didn’t see anything useful. Not really.”

“What does
not really
mean?” I asked. I knew from personal experience that a small comment like that could lead to something reasonably important.

“Well, everyone was in costumes, right? So I didn’t recognize half the people who were there. And there was this man, at least I
think
it was a man. He had wide shoulders and a medium build. Could have been a heavier woman, I suppose. Or she could have had padding. It could even have been a teen rather than an adult.”

“Yes,” I said, trying to bring her back around to the topic at hand without showing my impatience. “You saw someone, medium build. How tall was he?”

“Not as tall as the booths, I think. So maybe five-ten, five-eleven at the most. Not too many men that short out there, are there?”

“Not so many.” I agreed, if only to keep the conversation moving forward.

“Well, he kind of moved like a guy, and he didn’t say a word,” Melanie said. “He wore a big skeleton costume and it had a hood, though it didn’t cover his face. He had his face painted like a skeleton. It makes me shiver to think about it now, the white face paint was like a laughing death knell.”

We were finally getting somewhere and I was anxious for anything she could tell me. “Did you see him stop to talk with Francine?”

“I wasn’t paying much attention to them, now was I? I was focused on my own kids. But I think he was there for a while. I guess that was near the end of the night. I think I heard her say something before that about running low on merchandise so when she sort of disappeared, I just figured she had closed up shop.”

“I see. And what about his face? Round, thin, tall, short, chubby?” No one had mentioned the guy’s face before. Of course, it could have been the school principal for all I knew, but something to go on was better than nothing.

“Not round or thin. Kind of in-between. That’s why I can’t tell for sure if it’s a woman or not. The nose was kinda big for a girl, but some women have beaky noses like that, you know.”

“Yes. I’ve seen some. Did you catch the color of his eyes?”

“No.”

“Did Francine seem overly worried when he came over to talk?” I worked to draw out every detail now.

“Not really.” Melanie gasped. “Do you think she was scared of her attacker? You know, before he killed her?”

I very much thought that, but I wasn’t about to say it. I looked at the pad of paper where I’d made notes about the guy’s appearance. I didn’t know if she was in the least reliable, but I was willing to give it a shot. It was more than I had to go on otherwise. “I don’t know. I really appreciate you talking with me. It was kind of you to return my call.” We said goodbye and hung up.

I stared at the list on my pad of paper, and wondered if this was someone I’d seen before. Even someone who had been in my shop. That gave me the creeps.

Lenny came up behind me. “Having a hard time?”

I nodded. “Things just aren’t coming together on this one. I don’t even have a good lead. I’m stumped.” Bits of information floated around in my head like puzzle pieces and I couldn’t make them form a cohesive picture.

He gave my shoulder a pat. “You’ll figure it out. But not until after you’ve finished those cakes. They need to go out in a couple of hours, you know.”

I wanted to growl, but knew he was right. “Of course. I’ll take care of it.” I glanced at the list one last time before standing to get back to work.

I was just passing a cookie across the counter to Honey when the phone rang. The Caller ID displayed the name of Marge’s gift shop. I glanced at the clock—it had only been a couple of hours since she’d stopped by. Could she already have answers for me? “Hello, what’s up?” I looked across the street and saw her moving around inside her store.