Case of the killer cupca.., p.1
Case of the Killer Cupcake, page 1
Case of the Killer Cupcake
Sadie Maye
Copyright © [Year of First Publication] by [Author or Pen Name]
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter 1
Mabel was used to getting herself into pickles, but this one right here took the cake.
“Mabel, Willow Creek,” Amy sneered almost cartoonishly.
Mabel looked at the camera persons who stood behind Amy before she turned her gaze to Amy.
“Amy Niles, isn’t it a pleasure to meet you?”
Amy rolled her eyes.
“It’s never a pleasure to meet you, Mabel.”
“Same here, and that lipstick is not your shade,” Mabel said to herself glaring at Amy's bright red lips.
For some reason, Mabel and Amy never got along even though they had known each other for roughly thirty years. They didn’t stop at not getting along; they were also fierce rivals. Throughout kindergarten, high school, and college, they were always neck and neck for something. It was either their grades, the pageants, or the bake sales. Even their parents had to call a compulsory truce, but that did almost nothing to stop the rivalry.
It was of little wonder to the townsfolk when Mabel decided to be a baker and Amy, a food critic, who also became a regular at Mabel’s bakery.
Two men came up to Amy and whispered something into her ear.
Amy looked up.
“My assistants here seem to think your bakery is spotless.”
Mabel grinned. “In your face!”
“What?”
Mabel cleared her throat. “I mean, of course, the health of my consumers is a huge priority to me,” she said precisely as she rehearsed the night before.
Her response got applause from the townsfolk in the audience, her loyal customers who had come to support her. Although Mabel wished she could flip Amy Niles off to her heart's satisfaction, she was also aware that Amy Niles was the only thing standing between her and her dream of competing at the National Pie Festival.
If she passed Amy’s inspection, she would be the first baker from Willow Creek to compete.
Mabel was Willow Creek’s most cherished baker, almost every family had at least ordered a birthday cake from her bakery.
“Hold it together, Mabel. It’s almost over,” she told herself as she braced herself for what she knew was to come.
Amy smirked. “Well, it’s one thing to be spotlessly clean. It's another to be good at your job.”
Mabel walked over to the table and produced a plate with a cupcake. It was the prettiest little thing with mint green icing and chocolate sprinkles.
“I made a little something for you, Amy,” she said, placing it on the table.
There were oohs and ahhs as reporters scrambled to take pictures.
Amy fought to hold an unimpressed look. She picked the cupcake from the plate with a napkin and took a bite.
Mabel looked at her, barely breathing.
Amy took another bite; mid-chew, she let out a cough.
“It’s nothing; I am fine,” she said as everyone looked up in concern.
She was about to take another bite when she let out an even more violent cough.
“Can I have some water?” Amy asked no one in particular, suddenly clutching her chest.
Mabel was about to go get some water when gasps made her turn; Amy had sunk to the floor, holding her chest.
For a full minute, the crowd stared back at Mabel in dead silence, not a word, not a breath. Even the cameras stopped flashing. The faces pressed against the glass windows of her bakery stood in shock.
On the floor lay Amy’s motionless and lifeless body. Around her bright red lips were crumbs of Mabel’s cupcake, and in her limp hands was the half-eaten remains.
Mabel looked up at the tons of eyes boring holes into her, accusing her of a crime she was certain she didn’t commit.
“Why—why are you all staring at me? I—I didn’t do it,” she stuttered, falling back.
Her voice seemed to make everyone snap out of it, and instantly, all hell broke loose.
“Oh my God, someone call 911!!”
“She killed her!”
“We saw her eat the cake and fall.”
Mabel turned to them, shaking violently.
“What are you saying? I—I didn’t do anything!”
None spoke to her or met her eyes. She could see them slowly edging away from her, mumbling in low voices. Then came the flashing from the cameras all around. With one arm, Mabel covered her eyes as she looked down at the floor where Amy’s lifeless body lay.
She wasn’t moving.
In the distance, there was an audible crying of sirens.
Mabel sat on the chair where the lieutenant asked her to sit.
She could barely stay still; her nerves were on fire. She kept adjusting her dress and tapping her foot nervously.
The bakery was now empty, well, at least on the inside; the outside was still packed with reporters fighting for any shot they could get. The cops stood around the paramedics who were hovering over Amy’s body, which was now laid out on a stretcher. Lieutenant Fiona walked up to her, looking confused. Mabel looked up at her.
“I didn’t do it,” she gasped. Lieutenant Fiona sighed.
“Mabel, please don’t do this. This is already a hard one for me,” Fiona sighed. Her eyes fell on Mabel’s shaky hands.
“I’ll do everything to make sure justice is served,” she added.
Mabel felt tears sting her eyes. “You think I did it too, don’t you?”
“Nothing has been confirmed yet—I just need you to calm down.”
“Lieutenant, I have made fresh bread for the twins since they were born. I made your anniversary cake—“Mabel stopped, choked by emotions. Fiona looked away in guilt, hating her job for the first time. She opened her mouth to speak when there was a knock on the glass door.
“It’s Harry, I had to call him. Please, can he come in?” Mabel asked.
“Mabel, this is a crime scene.”
“Please! I need a friend here—someone who at least believes a word that comes out of my mouth.”
Fiona inhaled and signaled the cops at the door to let him in. Harry, a tall, slender man with wavy hair, clad in an overcoat that was thrown on in a hurry, ran inside and came straight to Mabel, who stood up to hug him.
“Oh, Harry—I didn’t do it. I swear.”
“Mabel, what’s going on? What is everyone on about?” he asked, holding her tight. Harry was her best friend, an innkeeper who ran one of the most successful inns on the outskirts of Willow Creek. And as it stood, he was her only friend for now.
Mabel bit down her lips, holding back tears.
Harry turned to Fiona.
“Long time no see, Harry. How is the inn doing?” Fiona asked, stretching out her hand to Harry, who took it.
“Fiona—Lieutenant,” he corrected himself, “Mabel didn’t do this.”
Fiona sighed sharply. “I am hoping for that to be the case, Harry, but I’ll be honest with you, it’s looking bleak.”
“You’ve known her for years.”
“What kind of cop would I be if I let my personal feelings get in the way of my job?” Fiona quipped.
“But—” Harry began when he was stopped by a gentle tug from Mabel.
“Fiona is right—” Mabel said in a voice so low that it could be a whisper, “let’s not interfere with her job.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she gets justice; I have let her know that much.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” said a man who appeared beside them. He was shorter than Fiona, and he looked bad-tempered.
Fiona sighed. “This is Sergeant Dan. The captain sent him down here.”
Harry and Mabel mumbled greetings to him, which he didn’t respond to.
“I take it that Willow Creek is a closely knit community. I am the newbie here, so I must warn you that I operate without prejudice,” he said.
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Of course, Dan, but as you can see here, I have it all under wraps.”
“Then you might want to start moving.”
Mabel felt her legs quake as she held on to Harry for support, physically and emotionally.
Dan turned to Fiona. “It’s okay if you don’t want to do it.”
Fiona’s eyes met Mabel’s, now brilliant with suppressed tears.
“I am sorry,” she whispered to Mabel before clearing her throat to say. “Mabel Mayfield, you are under arrest for the murder of Amy Niles.” She signaled to Dan to cuff her and looked away as Harry’s protests rent the air.
Even inside the interrogation room, Mabel could hear the buzz from the crowd. No matter how much she replayed the scenario today in her head, it just didn’t make sense in any way that Amy was dead. The door opened, and Dan walked in, holding a file.
“We meet again, Miss Mayfield.”
“Isn’t the captain supposed to do the questioning?” she asked wearily as he sat.
“As I said, Miss Mayfield, I just might be the only person in this town who can see this case objectively.”
“I didn’t kill her, Sergeant.”
He shrugged and tossed the file over at her.
“Do you have any idea what cyanide is, Miss Mayfield?”
Mabel inhaled. “Yes, I do.”
“Amy died of cyanide poisoning.”
It took Mabel some time to process the words that left his mouth.
“Do you know that cyanide can be made by crushing apple seed?” he asked
She met his eyes.
“What are you pushing at, Sergeant?”
He got up and paced the room.
“You ordered two dozen apples from the supermarket.”
Mabel sighed. “I own a bakery; I make pies and desserts.”
He stopped and stared at her.
“Let’s cut to the chase, Miss Mayfield. We went through your mail.”
She closed her eyes. “I can explain.”
“Oh please, I would love to listen. Let’s read the hate mail you’ve been sending under a fake email address to Amy Niles.”
He clears his throat as his eyes fall on the text on the paper, and Mabel winced audibly.
“I know your breath smells like farts.”
“Someone call 911; that hairstyle is an abomination.”
Dan cleared his throat and shut the file.
“There are about a dozen of them that hate mails, all sent from your address,” he said, “you didn’t like Amy Niles, did you.”
“Did you see the pictures? Her hair was hideous. Besides, a day before, she left a stinker of a review on my website. She said that my lemonade tasted like cubes of sugar, which is so not true— “
She stopped when she saw the sergeant's face.
“I admit that I sent those messages, Sergeant. But I would never think of hurting Amy.”
“You sure?” he asked, leaning over to her, “because she was hurting your business. Your rival bakery, Avril's Treat, has been inspected only once this year; you’ve been up for inspection six times.”
“Amy and I had our differences, and I admit that.”
“Oh, it’s not just a matter of being different; I heard of the national pie contest. I hear winning that equals an Oscar in the baking world.”
“I would never hurt Amy,” Mabel repeated in a cracked voice.
“She was all that stood between you and your biggest goal. If you got rid of her, no more inspections, and boom, you were well on your way to the national pie contest.”
Mabel looked up at Dan with bloodshot eyes.
“How many times do I have to say that I didn’t do it!” she screamed.
“It doesn't matter how many times you say it.”
“Do you have a best friend, Sergeant?” she asked him gently. It seemed to take him by surprise.
“Well—er—yes, I guess.”
“What’s his name?”
He looked around, confused. “Gavin Myers,” he finally answered.
“And how long have you known him for?”
“Ten years, why do you ask?”
“I knew Amy for over thirty years,” she said quietly.
Dan stopped in his tracks.
Mabel found his eyes. “Amy and I got along like oil and water; I have no intentions of denying that. But never in my wildest dreams did I picture her dead. I didn’t do this, Sergeant. Someone has to believe me.”
Dan lowered himself to his chair, and he sat down to stare at her in silence.
“Then who did?”
Mabel shook her head, falling back on her seat.
“I have no idea.”
Behind the glass windows of the interrogation room stood Captain Butch and Harry.
“Captain, Mabel didn’t do this; you know her.”
Captain Butch sighed. “Mabel is the town's pride and joy; no one wants to believe she did it—my wife and kids are in shambles as we speak, but then again, everyone watched Amy fall to the floor after taking a bite of the cupcake.”
“Why would she kill Amy in front of everyone? Come on, Captain.”
The captain reached out and patted Harry’s back.
“I only let you back here as a favor—my hands are tied here, Harry. My hands are tied.”
Chapter 2
Harry followed behind the captain, walking into his sparsely decorated office.
“What’s going to happen with her?”
Butch shrugged. “The mayor is pissed; he loves her banana cake, but he is pissed at the publicity and the amount he is paying to have the paparazzi keep it under wraps. He wants the case wrapped up and given to the court as soon as possible.”
Harry sighed. “So, you mean she is going to be tried? Isn’t that a bit too quick?”
The captain settled into his big armchair and placed his legs up on his table, half-cluttered with dusty files.
“Son, everyone watched that woman die after eating Mabel’s cupcake.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not investigating this, Captain.”
“As a matter of fact, I am not because there is no reason to. Besides, Amy’s family isn’t going to take any delay lightly. They want Mabel's procedures immediately.”
The captain softened his voice at an agitated Harry.
“Can I advise you, son? This is murder we are talking about, son; she needs an attorney, not you poking around here.”
Harry tapped his feet at the rusty door as thought after thought ran through his head.
“She didn’t do it, Captain,” he said.
“That’s the best defense you could come up with?”
They both turned to see a blonde woman clad in a three-piece suit and pencil-thin heels. She was clutching a bag and a file.
“Emma, is that you?” Butch asked as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.
Harry's eyes met Emma’s, and they stood regarding each other before she finally walked into the office with her heels making punchy clicking sounds.
“Long time no see, Captain,” she said, giving herself a seat, “I see you decided on a mustache.”
Butch touched his mustache. “Yes glad you noticed.”
“It’s not your thing.”
“I don’t remember asking your opinion.”
She grinned. “I missed you, Captain.”
Butch ground his teeth and muttered under his breath. “I didn’t.”
“I’ll be on my way—“Harry said, but he was a tad bit too late.
“Hi Harry,” came Emma’s voice, “I see that you’re as hot as ever. Do you still have that crush on Mabel Mayfield?”
Harry looked at her, alarmed as the captain’s eyes widened.
“Two clueless fellas, am I right? Both down bad for each other, both still clueless,” Emma giggled.
“That would explain a lot,” the captain said under his breath.
“And you’re welcome,” Emma replied.
“I’ll leave you two,” Harry said, looking like he would give anything to disappear into the walls.
“Not so fast, lover boy, I have an offer that might interest you.”
Emma turned to the captain. “You might be wondering what brought me down to Willow Creek after leaving for the big city.”
She leaned closer to the captain. “I heard about the murder.”
“How is that possible? The mayor is sitting on the news,” Harry snapped.
Emma grinned. “He might be, but he isn’t sitting on people’s mouths.”
“What do you want, Emma?”
“I want an exclusive with Mabel.”
“No, and that’s it,” Harry said immediately.
“Yeah, I am with him. Mabel is like a daughter to me, and I am not letting your vile publishing house rip her apart.”
Emma chuckled. “You both realize that she will be ripped apart either way. Amy Niles is one of the biggest food critics in the country. We just need to let out a whiff of the news, and Willow Creek will be set ablaze by the paparazzi.”
The captain looked at Harry, who shook his head.
Emma nodded. “See, I am smart, and I thought you would say that, so I have something.”
She handed Harry a file.
“What’s this?”
“My resume; hire me as your private investigator.”
“Are you out of your flipping mind? You’re horrible enough as a journalist— “
