Murder Takes the Cake Text (28 page)
Read Murder Takes the Cake Text Online
Authors: Gayle Trent
With her weapon now useless, I bent quickly and punched the backs of Janey’s knees, making her fall into a kneeling position. Then I pushed her face down and sat on her.
“Myra!” I screamed. “Myra! Myra! Myra!”
Gee, I hope Myra is home and that she can hear me. I don’t want to have to hold this tough little woman down like this for who-knows-how-long.
As it turned out, Myra was not home. But Ben drove up just when I needed him. It was getting to be a habit with that guy.
He’d finally gotten around to bringing Sally over. Sitting in the passenger seat was the most gorgeous Golden Retriever I’d ever seen.
“Ben!”
He leapt from his car behind Janey’s Mercedes. “What’re you doing?”
“Waiting for you to call the police. Tell them to get here now! And don’t let Sally out of the Jeep. There’s venom on the walkway.”
Ben grabbed his cell phone and got out of the Jeep. He bent and took a closer look. “Why’ve you got Janey Dobbs pinned to the ground?”
“It’s a long story. Call the police.”
He dialed 9-1-1. Within fifteen minutes, it seemed every cop on the force—yes, Bill Hayden was there—arrived in my yard. Ben had offered to help me hold Janey down but I could tell he felt awkward about sitting on her. So I had a cramp in my leg and was delighted the authorities were finally there to take Janey Dobbs away.
The twins are coming over after school tomorrow to help me put up my Christmas tree. I was glad. I’ve got Guinevere’s party soon, so if I don’t get that tree up tomorrow it’ll be January before I around to it.
They’re going to help me do my Christmas shopping, too. I know that means mostly letting me know what
they
want, but that’s all right. They’re my favorite gift recipients anyhow.
Ben’s exclusive about Janey Dobbs was on the front page of the newspaper this morning. He’s as proud as punch—as he should be—and I’m thrilled that, although I was mentioned and Daphne’s Delectable Cakes did get tons of publicity, the paper did
not
print a photograph of me making a sixty-eight year-old woman kiss my walkway. Trust me; it pays to be dating the guy with the exclusive. He’s also thinking about writing that true crime novel he was once joking about. “Venomous Vengeance” indeed.
My phone hasn’t stopped ringing, and my in-box has been full. I’m letting the answering machine take the calls, and I’ve decided to wait until tomorrow to answer my e-mail.
Even Mom called. She doesn’t get the Brea
Chronicle
, of course, but Violet called and told her and Dad about all the excitement. Dad was effusive when he talked with me, but Mom did fuss over me and tell me she was proud of how I’d handled the situation.
Candy and Mr. Dobbs came by today with a bag of cat food for Sparrow. They thanked me for bringing Mrs. Dobbs to justice. Too bad for them, they’ll probably have to come up with the money to open their own store. Mrs. Dobbs’ assets will likely be frozen, and that will surely close Dobbs’ Pet Store until further notice.
I made myself a cup of café au lait and wandered out onto the porch. I wasn’t a bit surprised to see China York scrubbing my walkway.
“I did that right after the attack,” I told her.
“I know,” she said with a smile. “I thought I’d go over it again, though, so your cat won’t be licking at it. I’m using a citrus cleaner, too. Cats hate it.”
I laughed. “I’ll be right back with your coffee.”
“Good. I was getting ready to knock on your door and ask for some.”
When I came back, she set aside her pail and scrub brush and sat beside me on the porch.
“You were right, you know.”
“’Bout what?”
“About my ‘here and now’ catching up with my subconscious.”
She sipped the coffee I poured for her. “You don’t get to be as old as I am without knowing a few things.”
“If I hadn’t figured that out—”
“But you did . . .and that’s what matters.”
I felt fur against my leg. Sparrow had brushed against me and was walking away.
I smiled. Things were looking up.
INSTRUCTIONS FOR LUCAS’
BLACK CAT CUPCAKES
Needed:
Cupcakes
Chocolate Icing
Chocolate-Covered Crème Drops – Cut in half lengthwise
Skittles, Reeses Pieces, M&Ms or some other round candy pieces
Candy Corn Pieces
Skinny Pretzel Rods
Instructions: Frost the cupcakes with chocolate icing. Put a chocolate-covered crème drop half (white center facing the inside) at each top side of the cupcake for the cat’s ears. Add round candy pieces for eyes, a candy corn pointing downward for the nose and two pretzel sticks on each side of the nose (> <) for whiskers.
For a photograph of the completed cupcakes, see Daphne’s Web page at
http://gayle24202.tripod.com/id9.html
.
SWISS DOT CAKE
Prepare a square or a standard 9” x 13” cake according to package or recipe directions. Let cool completely. If using a 9” x 13” cake, cut in half. Refrigerate cake for approximately 30 minutes before making the cut.
Place one layer on a cake board and spread icing evenly on the top. Place second layer on top of first. Frost entire cake smoothly using a long, angled cake spatula. Ice the cake twice if crumbs appear after one coat is applied. Refrigerate cake for 20 minutes before applying second coat.
Pipe a series of medium-large dots for the top and bottom borders. Use a cake bag with tip number 4 or 5 and apply medium to heavy pressure. When piping dots, hold bag at 90º angle to cake. Squeeze, stop the pressure and pull the bag away. If peaks appear, slip tip to the side when pulling away. Peaks can also be smoothed with your finger dipped in cornstarch.
Pipe small dots on the sides and top of the cake using tip number 4 (or smaller). Use light pressure to achieve smaller dots.
Use a strand of pearls (from your hobby or craft store) to further adorn the cake. Estimate the length of each side of the cake. Cut the pearls to size and gently place strand against the outside of the top border. Repeat for the inside of the top border. Repeat on the bottom border, placing pearl strands above and below the border.
Top the cake with a sprig of your favorite artificial flowers. Pipe a large mound of icing in the center of the cake and insert the flowers into this mound.
First of all, I give thanks to God for the many blessings He has given me. Three of those blessings are Tim, Lianna and Nicholas. You encourage, support, help, cheerlead, advise and provide constant TLC. You guys are phenomenal.
Next, I’d like to thank my helpers: Stephanie Burnette, Cake Decorator Extraordinaire; Sheriff Fred Newman and Elaine Smythe of the Washington County Sheriff’s Office for schooling me a little in police procedure; Linda Dobkins, Critique Expert; Jungle Adventures for their tutelage on snakes; Lisa McCarty of the Scott County Virginia Star for information about and a photograph of the Scott County courthouse; Gary Hagy of the Division of Food and Environmental Services for coaching me on home baking regulations; and to Teena Haynes (pre-reader, cheerleader and prayer warrior).
For providing unlimited inspiration, I give a tip of the toque blanche to Chef Duff Goldman of
Ace of Cakes
and Charm City Cakes; to Sylvia Weinstock of Sylvia Weinstock Cakes; to Nati of Nati’s Cakes (located in Victoria, Australia) and a founding member of the Yahoo group, 3 Cakertiers; and to Cake Central.
For being my guinea pigs (my apologies to Guinevere), sounding boards, and on occasion whine indulgers, my heartfelt appreciation goes out to Retta and Wayne (my parents); Betty and Roy (my husband’s parents); Joyce, Kay, Kathy, Nancy S., Nancy Y., Faye, Ingrid, Anna Lee, Ella Ruth and Dottie (best little Bible study group in Bristol and possibly the world); Brenda and Margaret (writing buddies with great talent and big hearts); Beverly and Linda (readers and friends); Sally, Sandra, Ellen, Jan, Maureen and Donna (new friends and sources of tremendous encouragement met at the Sisters in Crime Mystery Bookfest in Roanoke, Virginia in March of 2007); and the Blue Ridge Pens, a supportive writing group I don’t get to see enough of.
Thank you.
Gayle Trent is a full-time author. She lives in Bristol, Virginia with her husband, daughter and son.
Gayle previously worked in the accounting and legal fields, and her last such job was as secretary to a Deputy Commissioner in the Virginia Workers’ Compensation Commission. Though she enjoyed the work, it was a long daily commute and she felt she wasn’t spending enough time with her family. Now she writes while her children are at school; and thanks to a crock pot and a bread machine, can often have dinner ready when everyone gets home.
“I think it’s important to be here for my children…to take part in school functions and to be an active part of their lives,” Gayle says. “I can certainly sympathize with moms who work outside the home—been there, done that—but I would encourage everyone to make time to visit their children’s schools, to have lunch with them [at school] occasionally, to get a feel for who their friends are…little things like that.”
Gayle loves to hear from readers who can contact her via e-mail at [email protected] or via one of her Web sites:
http://www.gayletrent.com
or
http://gayle24202.tripod.com
. If you share an interest in cake decorating, please visit Daphne’s Web site, available via click-through from either of Gayle’s sites or at
http://www.gayle24202.tripod.com/id9.html
.
Another Daphne Martin Cake Baking Mystery
DEAD PAN
Excerpt
For the second time in as many months, I found myself telling a police officer, “I just brought the cake.”
“Yes, ma’am, and the lab has already tested remnants of that cake and determined it’s not the cause.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” It was also a relief to be dealing with Officer McAfee rather than Officer Hayden this time. Officer McAfee appeared to be on the backside of thirty and didn’t seem to rush to judgment the way young Officer Hayden had.
“Nevertheless, ninety percent of the folks who attended the Brea Ridge Pharmaceutical Christmas party are violently ill today,” Officer McAfee said.
“Right. As I said, I just brought the cake. I didn’t stay for the festivities.”
“Lucky you.” His brown fingers fumbled with a small blue notebook. “You didn’t notice anything unusual going on?”
“Like Momba Womba spiking the punch?” With a name like Daphne, I’m entitled to a Scooby Doo reference now and then, especially when I’m nervous. I can’t remember what Momba Womba really did, although I do remember he was a witch doctor. I’m fairly sure he didn’t spike any punch, or else Shaggy and Scooby would’ve been in big trouble.
Officer McAfee’s dark eyes widened as he leaned forward in my kitchen chair. “You saw somebody spike the punch?”
“No, no . . . I didn’t see anything.”
He stood up. “If you think of anything—anything at all—that might’ve made those people sick, call me.” He handed me his business card. “This is deadly serious, Ms. Martin. Fred Duncan is in the hospital in a coma today.”
“Fred Duncan?”
“Yeah. You know him?”
“He works at the Save-A-Buck.”
“Right.”
I walked Officer McAfee to the door. “That’s terrible. Do the doctors think he’ll be okay?”
He shook his head. “It’s not looking good.”
I’d barely had time to put our coffee cups in the dishwasher before my neighbor Myra was at the door. I invited her in and we went to sit in the living room. I felt I might as well be comfortable for my inquisition.
“I thought I saw a police car over here,” Myra said, kicking off her loafers and dropping into my pink and white checked club chair.
“You did. You did see a police car.” The Looney Tunes reference was lost on Myra. She was like a bloodhound with a scent to follow.
“What were they doing here?”
I sat down on the couch. “The Brea Ridge Pharmaceutical Company had their Christmas party last night.”
“Were you there? Did it get rowdy? Was there a drunken brawl?”
“I delivered a cake, but I left before the party started.”
“So you didn’t get to see the brawl?”
“As far as I know, there was no brawl.”
“Then why were the police here?”
“A lot of people who were at the party got sick.”
“From your cake?”
I held up my hand. “Definitely
not
from my cake. Officer McAfee said the lab tested remnants of the cake, and it was fine.”
“Remnants? I thought only carpet came in remnants. Huh.” She folded her legs up under her. “That Officer McAfee is a good looking man, ain’t he? He reminds me of Malcolm Winters from
Y and R
. Of course, he’s on that crime show now, so there you go.”
“There you go,” I echoed, as if her train of thought made one iota of sense.
“What was it that made everybody so sick?”
“They don’t know yet. Fortunately, the company had some drugs on hand that lessened the symptoms for most of them. They couldn’t help poor Fred Duncan, though.”
“He still sick?”
I nodded slowly. “He’s in a coma.”
“Fred Duncan is in a coma?” She scoffed. “Bet he’s fakin’.”
“Myra, you can’t fake a coma.”
“Oh, honey, you can. I did it one time. Me and Carl had this big fight and he stormed out. I wanted him to find me passed out on the bedroom floor when he got home so he’d feel really ashamed for how he’d left.”
I merely stared at her with my mouth hanging open.
“I took a couple of sleeping pills and laid down on the floor,” she continued. “I don’t know how long I’d been asleep before Carl got home, but he was plenty worried when he finally got me revived. He called an ambulance and everything. And that wasn’t like Carl. Normally, he was so cheap, he’d have just pitched me in the back of the Buick, turned on the four-way flashers and took me to the hospital himself.” She smiled smugly. “Even with our insurance, that trip cost us a pretty penny. They checked my heart and everything.”