Stirring the Plot (A Cookbook Nook Mystery) (25 page)

Magical. Supernatural.
Maya was living in a dream world.

“But, lo and behold,” Maya continued, “she refused me as she had so many times before.”

“You’d asked her for help on previous occasions?”

“Three times to be exact.”

“Why did she refuse?”

“Because she couldn’t dream of touching her husband’s precious collection, not for something as New Age as my treatment. She said I was crazy to even ask. Crazy. Me.”

“So you went home and got the things you needed to kill her.”

“Indeed, I did. I’d been considering doing her in for weeks, but that night I wanted to give her one more chance. I thought with all the good vibes going around during the Winsome Witches events, she might reconsider. I was wrong. She was a vile, selfish fiend.”

“You returned with zolpidem to lace her drink—”

“Isn’t that a sleeping drug?” Pepper asked.

Maya ignored her, her gaze fully on me. “I needed her to be cooperative.”

“So you could inject her with poison,” I said. The word
inject
triggered a memory. Seconds ago, Maya said I hadn’t fully closed the drawer of the bird feeder. I glanced over my shoulder at the potting table. As expected, the drawer was open an inch. Bless my bad habit! The empty syringes lay inside. Maybe I could nab one of them. A year out of college, I plunged an EpiPen into a friend who was in anaphylactic shock. She reported later that the pain I had exacted was excruciating. A syringe was no match for a machete, but I had to do something to neutralize Maya. Without turning my head, I walked my fingers down the inside of the drawer.

“When I came back, I saw Pearl lounging on the patio,” Maya continued. “So I went to the kitchen to fetch some of that yummy Witchy Woman concoction. There was enough for two drinks left in a pitcher. I filled a pair of martini glasses and dosed one with ground-up zolpidem. The drug works faster with liquor.”

Using my pinky, I drew the syringes forward. The plastic wrapping scraped the bottom of the drawer.

Pepper coughed loudly. Had she heard the sound? Was she covering for me? Was she finally on my side? If so, I really owed her a good batch of dark chocolate . . . if she would ever speak to me again after being taken captive.

“Then, thanks to this lovely
thing
I have”—Maya twirled her finger to signify the disease that had taken hold in her body—“before I approached Pearl on the patio, I needed the loo. I was in the bathroom when Emma showed up.” She snickered. “So I finished my business, and I stole to another room to watch the whole event. I had a ringside seat. It was quite a show, Emma admitting her love to the dear doctor.”

Pepper drilled me with a look. “Does everyone know?”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” I said.

“Neither did I,” Maya said. “If I had, I would have been admitting my presence. Poor Emma. I do hope she can work it out with her husband. He’s such a nice guy. A good dentist, too.” Maya smiled. “Do you like how white my teeth are? Dr. Wright says a whiter smile makes people feel young again. If only I were a decade younger and didn’t have this
t
hing
.”

I pried one syringe from the packet. I wrapped my hand around the empty plunger.

“Anyway, while I was eavesdropping, Trisha showed up. She didn’t see me. She, too, watched in secret as Emma threw her ring in the fire and Pearl reached to catch it. After Trisha and Emma departed, I realized my opportunity. If necessary, I could pin the murder on either of them. Two for the price of one. As store owners, ladies, you know the value of a good deal.”

“What happened next?” Pepper said, as if caught up in the story, but I realized she was trying to draw Maya’s attention away from me.

Kid you not, I was starting to like the woman. She had pluck.

Maya turned her face slightly. “As Pearl was dousing the fire, I appeared with cocktails.”

“How did you explain your return?”

“I told her I’d left my cell phone behind, and then I let on that I’d overheard Emma’s confession. I asked if she wanted to talk about it. She didn’t. Even so, I offered her a drink.”

“And she drank it, even though she’d been diagnosed with diabetes?”

“I convinced her it was okay. One cocktail wouldn’t hurt. To celebrate. We talked about the party and the upcoming luncheon. After a few minutes, Pearl grew drowsy. That’s when I attacked. I plunged the hypodermic into her arm. Instantly, she grew nauseated though she didn’t vomit. As she lay dying, I promised her an antidote if she would tell me where to find the key to the mineral display case. She did. She begged to live. She sounded so pitiful that it almost broke my heart. But I didn’t have an antidote. I’d lied. She died in minutes.”

“You posed her over the cold fire pit to frame Emma,” I said, finishing the saga. “You planted the sapphire in Trisha’s backpack to draw the focus away from the Thorntonite you’d taken.”

Maya grinned.

I said, “Is the Thorntonite working?”

“We don’t know yet. These things take time.”

“But you’ve run out of time,” Pepper hissed, and like a karate pro, she jabbed Maya with her elbow. Maya, surprised as all get-out by Pepper’s strength and determination, caved inward. Pepper grasped Maya’s forearm and yanked downward. Maya was too weak to hold on. She spun away from Pepper. Desperately, she swung the machete, but she only hit marijuana plants. “Now, Jenna!” Pepper yelled.

I raced at Maya and thrust the empty syringe into her thigh. Maya fell forward. I stepped on the arm holding the machete and kneeled on her back. I didn’t have many pounds on Maya, but empowered by Pepper’s courage, I had grit.

The door from the shop flew open. Cinnamon hurried in, gun drawn.

I said, “How did you—”

“I dialed 911,” Pepper blurted out.

Aunt Vera followed Cinnamon in. A clerk and a few customers clogged the doorway.

As Cinnamon cuffed Maya, I filled her in. On the lily of the valley poison. On Maya’s sneak attack. On how Pepper saved the day with a little help from me. “I believe you’ll find evidence of Maya being at the crime scene. Her fingerprints should be on the chaise. Marijuana leaves from this garden might be among the leaves gathered from the crime scene.”

Aunt Vera said, “I knew something was bugging me about Pearl’s patio. I’d noticed drag marks from the chaise to the fire pit, but they were gone by the time we returned.”

“That won’t be enough to convict me,” Maya argued.

“I’ll bet you coughed that night,” I said. “You’ve been coughing for a long time. Your DNA will be in the area. Maybe even on Dr. Thornton’s body.” I looked to Cinnamon for confirmation.

She grinned. “Don’t look at me. You’re the expert.”

O
N
H
ALLOWEEN
DAY
,
I panicked and decided to hold my party at The Cookbook Nook instead of my cottage. Why? Because around noon, as I was answering question after question about Maya Adaire—yes, she was in custody and not being released on bail, and yes, she had been charged with murder—I had a
duh
moment. No way was I ever going to be able to cook everything for the party by myself in less than three hours after closing the shop. Sensing my distress, Katie offered to help. I wasn’t stupid. I screamed
yes
.

On a break at 3:00
P.M.
, I flew home and picked up all the ingredients and my costume. When I returned, Katie was at the ready, arms extended. Popcorn balls—a snap. Wart-topped quesadillas with less than five ingredients—also a snap. In addition, Katie had borrowed a half-dozen cookbooks from the shop so she could whip up some adult desserts. All were divine. My favorite was a pumpkin cheesecake laced with maple syrup.

A half hour after we closed the store, I slipped into the stockroom and donned my Dorothy from Oz costume, which was inspired by the Oz club ladies who had visited the store earlier—a sweet gingham dress, ruffled white shirt, short socks, and ballet slippers instead of Mary Janes. I weaved my hair into two pigtails. Next, I secured Tigger’s witch hat to his head. To my surprise, he sat completely still. What the little scamp wouldn’t do for a few oatmeal tuna treats. Finally, I dimmed the store’s lights, and I toured the shop to light candles and tweak Halloween decorations.

“Nice pumpkin you carved,” I said to Bailey. She had used a stencil of a witch riding an airborne bicycle.

“Thanks. I’m already practicing for next year’s competition.”

“What’s that?” I said, pointing to a basket that was sitting by the register. It was filled with what looked like homemade caramel-dipped marshmallows. Wire-edged ribbon adorned the handle of the basket.

“What do you think?” Bailey held it up. “It’s another token from your secret admirer.”

At that moment, Deputy Appleby ambled into the shop, knocking on the door frame as he entered. “Hiya, heard there was a party.” He was carrying a big bouquet of roses.

I did a double take on the flowers and the basket on the counter. Uh-oh. I felt warmth flood my cheeks.
Please tell me he isn’t my secret admirer. Please, please, please.
I said, “You have to be in costume.”

He grinned. “I am. I’m a floral delivery man.” He pointed to a handwritten sticker on his shirt.

Tricky but not very imaginative, I mused. I snatched the basket out of Bailey’s hand and brandished it at Appleby. “Is this from you?”

He shook his head. “Not I.”

“Oh, really. Who are those flowers for?”

“Your aunt.”

“My—” Not believing him on either account, I glowered at the note on the basket. If forced, I would attempt a handwriting analysis test. But then I laughed out loud. “Yoo-hoo, Bailey, did you read this?”

She shook her head.

“It’s not for me, it’s for you. It says, ‘To my beautiful Bailey. Will you ever get the hint?’”

She snatched the basket back. “That’s not Jorge’s writing.”

The front door opened and a warlock wearing a Zorro-style mask entered.

I said, “Say, isn’t that the guy who played Pin the Bat on the Pumpkin at Vines the other night?” I stared harder. “Wait, a sec. Isn’t the cape he’s wearing the same one Tito wore as a magician?”

Bailey moaned. “Uh-oh. Remember how I said Tito’s voice reminded me of someone? He sounds like the warlock at Vines, which means . . . it’s him!”

Our intrepid reporter sauntered toward Bailey and reached gallantly for her hand. Before she could tug it away, he kissed it, and suddenly, thanks to a mental smack to the forehead, I realized that he—Tito—was the secret admirer. The tokens hadn’t been for me. They were all for her. Simply because they sat in front of the store, I had assumed . . .

Well, we all know what happens when someone
assumes
.

I giggled. Wasn’t it amazing how a guy could transform himself simply by donning a mask? Bruce Wayne became the Dark Knight. Superman added glasses and became Clark Kent. Tito, thanks to the power of the mask, was chatting freely, and Bailey seemed to be taking to him.
Magic.

In less than an hour, The Cookbook Nook filled with family and friends. Katie, who had delegated the catering of the party to her staff, stood near the food table with her boyfriend, Keller. Both had dressed as zombies. Pepper was wearing a simple black dress with one of the prettiest witch hats I’d ever seen, adorned with lacy netting on the front, its brim sparkling with red beads. Before leaving The Enchanted Garden, she had hugged me and told me how thrilled she was that I’d picked up on her silent signals. We weren’t best buddies quite yet, but earlier this morning she had warmed to me even more when I took her a dozen dark chocolates zinging with cayenne pepper, all made by Katie. Of course, Katie wouldn’t take the credit. She assured me I would be able to make the candies in due time.

The door opened and Aunt Vera entered with my father and Lola, Bailey’s mother. Aunt Vera was beaming. She wasn’t wearing a costume—well, not a real costume. She had donned a spectacular purple caftan and turban, which clearly signified she felt her powers were restored. Deputy Appleby, true to his word, strode to her and handed her the roses. She blushed like a schoolgirl. What was it with her and younger men lately?

I hurried to my father and Lola, surprised to see my father wearing a costume. To my recollection, he had never worn one in his life, despite my mother’s moans and groans. How had Lola talked him into it? I would bet she’d threatened that if he didn’t wear something fun, she would show up nude. The two of them were dressed like Nick and Nora Charles. She wore a prim black dress with a white lacy collar and a perfectly coifed 1930s wig. My father—stop the presses!—wore a pinstriped suit. A phony black mustache finished the getup. Granted, the mustache looked sort of silly with his silver hair, but I wasn’t going to mention it.

He hugged me and whispered, “You and I have to talk about what you did, dragging your aunt into a dangerous situation.”

“Dad, she insisted.”

He glowered at me. “We’ll talk.”

Lola hugged me and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll handle your father. Now, tell me everything. I just saw Emma and Edward Wright and Bingo and the Reverend walking down the boulevard. They seemed like old friends.”

“Emma and Edward are putting their lives back on track. They’re meeting with a marriage counselor starting tomorrow.” Emma had rushed into the store first thing this morning to tell me the news. “She and Bingo are working hand in hand to make next year’s Winsome Witches a huge success, in honor of Pearl. Edward has even agreed to attend.”

“Wow.”

“And Bingo has told the Reverend everything.” The Reverend contacted the ex-fiancé. Money changed hands. The negatives were to arrive via express mail tomorrow. “Their wedding is a go.”

“I know,” Lola said. “They’re having the night-before-the-wedding reception at The Pelican Brief.”

My father, who seemed to have gotten over his initial peeve at me, said, “I heard the Reverend is quite a gourmet.”

Lola rolled her eyes. “You should see the menu they’ve planned. Everything from fried eel to braised shark.”

Speaking of gourmets, I scanned the party for Rhett. I wondered if, because I hadn’t wanted to, you know, go
further
the other night at his place, I had scared him off.
Boo, I’m so scary.
Dang, but I could be self-sufficient.

Aunt Vera said, “I received a call from that sweet Mrs. Davies today. She’s been keeping tabs on Trisha, despite Trisha’s loathing of her. She feels she owes a debt to Pearl. Anyway, she wanted to give me an update on Trisha. It seems that UC Santa Cruz, given the extreme circumstances, has granted Trisha dispensation. Her boyfriend is not in trouble, and Trisha has been allowed back to classes, but she’ll have to comply with weekly drug testing.”

I was glad to hear that. The young woman would have enough to deal with in the coming years. Maybe knowing that she’d had her mother’s love would help her mend, in time.

“Also,” Aunt Vera continued, “it seems that Trisha has been in contact with a museum in San Francisco. With the approval of the estate trustee, she’s going to donate the Thornton Collection. She wants no remuneration.”

“Wow. How benevolent.”

“Mrs. Davies clucked with pride, as if she herself had given Trisha the idea.”

The door opened again and Cinnamon and Bucky arrived—on roller skates. She wore a carhop outfit that really showed off her muscular legs. Bucky had dressed as a fifties-style grease monkey, complete with a pack of cigarettes rolled into the sleeve of his oily T-shirt. Right behind them came a scarecrow. Full mask. Corn husks and hay jutting from every part of his costume. He punched Bucky on the arm, then walked with a bowlegged gait toward me.

“Hey, Dorothy,” he said, then yukked.

“Rhett,” I said, recognizing his eyes. “I’m so glad you showed up. I thought perhaps, after the other night, you might not—” I waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. Did you dress like that to match me?”

“Yup.”

“How did you guess I was dressing as Dorothy?”

He tapped his temple. “I’ve actually got a brain.”

“Cute. No, really?”

“Your aunt called me.”

I eyed her. “I didn’t tell her.”

“Maybe she divined it.”

I glanced at her again. Was she really psychic? All this time, I’d thought she was making up the fact that she had powers. To test out the theory, I willed her to turn in my direction. I would never know if she did or not because Rhett grabbed me in a dance hold and spun me around.

He stopped suddenly and said, “By the way, I wanted to talk to you about sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“Uh-oh, what did I do now?” Had he and my father been chatting? Was I going to get a lecture?

“Cinnamon says she’s going to reopen the investigation into the arson at The Grotto.”

“Really? Yay!”

“Thank you.”

He planted a kiss on my mouth that sent me reeling, and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t put him off any longer.