Christmas Cupcakes and a Caper Read online

  “You might as well tell her. You know the pink-haired pixie won’t let up until you spill the coffee beans.”

  I know Kristie’s right, but I still sigh and take a moment before opening my mouth. “Ben’s acting strange.”

  “Strange how?”

  “He’s being secretive.”

  “He’s a detective. You know there’s plenty of work stuff he can’t discuss with you. Unlike this one,” Kristie points to Anna, “you don’t badger him for information. I’m sure he appreciates your discretion.”

  Anna puts a hand in front of Kristie’s face. “Don’t listen to her. Secretive how?”

  “Ugh!” I bury my face in my hands. “He leaves the room whenever he gets a text message – a text message! Why would he do that? Is he worried I’m going to read his messages? He must be hiding something.”

  Anna rubs her hands together. “Ooooh, a mystery. When do you want to follow him?’

  “I’m not going to follow him. I just wish he’d tell me what’s going on. If he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, he needs to tell me. Not have an affair behind my back!” Yep, I went there. It’s the sole reason I can come up with for why he’s leaving the room to answer messages. He’s also been keeping his phone close at hand. Before, he’d leave the thing laying around. He’s even forgotten it when he’s left the apartment in the past. Now? It’s glued to his hand.

  Anna snorts. “Are you serious right now? Your man pursued you for more than a year before you’d go out on a single date with him.”

  “Maybe it was the pursuit or the lure of what he couldn’t have that intrigued him. Now he has me and he’s bored.” I whine. Yes, I’m totally whining now.

  “Hush.” Anna holds her hand up in the universal stop sign symbol. “Non-hormonal adults are talking now.” She grabs my hands. “The man is so in love with you, he can barely see straight. He runs to your side the moment he thinks there’s a bit of danger.”

  “It’s the alpha male thing. Logan does the same thing.”

  “Please. Logan showed up yesterday purely for the entertainment factor.”

  “And you certainly gave it to him,” Kristie mumbles under her breath. I chuckle. I feel her pain. No one wants to walk in on their friends making out.

  “There’s only one thing to do,” Anna announces as she stands up and takes her coffee cup to the sink. “We’ll follow him one day after work.”

  “I’m not stalking my boyfriend!”

  “No worries. I’m happy to do it on my own and report back to you.”

  She’ll do it, too. “Fine. As soon as your schedule clears, we’ll go.” Her schedule will clear sometime after Christmas, which is still a few weeks off. By then, Ben better have told me what the heck’s going on. Otherwise, I will follow him.

  “Count me in!” Kristie shouts as she strolls towards the café. Huh. Kristie is normally the goody two shoes of our group. If she’s joining us for a bit of stalking, then she must have noticed something’s up with Ben. Not good.

  “You girls were supposed to convince me I was seeing things that weren’t there. Not decide to go on a mission to stalk my boyfriend!” I shout at her retreating back.

  Chapter 3

  Dear Santa, Before I explain, how much do you know?

  “I wouldn’t if I were you.” I grab Kristie’s wrist to stop her from putting the cupcake in her mouth. Her mouth shuts, but she raises an eyebrow at me. “Someone’s been experimenting with how much liquor she can add to cupcakes before turning them into cup drinks.”

  Kristie stares at the cupcake in disgust before throwing it back on the baking tray. Ever since a beer she drank at a bar last year was drugged, she doesn’t touch alcohol – like ever.

  Anna huffs. “Those are eggnog latte cupcakes.” She picks the cupcake up and shoves it in Kristie’s hand. “With espresso frosting.”

  Espresso is the magic word. Kristie takes a lick of the frosting. “Mmm… coffee.”

  I chuckle. The woman is totally and completely coffee obsessed, which is pretty handy since she’s our barista. “Wait until you hit the alcohol part.”

  “There’s like half a cup eggnog in the entire batch of cupcakes. Big deal. Besides, alcohol evaporates when it’s baked.”

  “It takes three hours for alcohol to be completely eradicated from a dish. You know this.” I’m usually the one who spouts useless trivia facts, but this little tidbit actually came from Anna. I wasn’t kidding when I told Kristie Anna’s experimenting with how much liquor she can add to a cupcake.

  “Whatever.” The baker waves away my concerns. “Anyway, did you hear the news?”

  Oh no. I was worried about this when I read the article in the morning newspaper announcing Donald Griffin was murdered. Anna is going to want to stick her nose in where it doesn’t belong.

  “I’ve been thinking about it all night long.”

  “Hold up.” I raise my hand. “All night long? The story broke this morning.” Anna smirks. “Can Logan not keep anything secret from you? He’s not even a homicide detective. Why—” I cut myself off. There’s no sense trying to understand anything Logan does. The man marches to the tune of his own drummer. And trust me, his drummer is not the little drummer boy famous from the Christmas song.

  “He doesn’t bother trying to keep secrets from me.”

  Kristie addresses me. “I thought when this one found a man, a gang squad detective no less, he would reel in her crazy. Instead, he seems to feed on it.”

  “I know,” I nod. “It’s like he’s decided there’s no taming her. I think he likes watching whatever trouble she finds herself in.”

  “As long as she’s safe, she’s allowed to be crazy.”

  “Hey!” Anna slams her hand down on the counter in between Kristie and me. “I’m right here, you know.”

  I raise my coffee cup to hide my smile. Pushing my best friend’s buttons is one of my favorite things in the world. It’s only fair. She drives me crazy. I get to drive her crazy in return. It’s what best friends are for.

  Kristie doesn’t bother hiding her giggle, but when Anna shifts to glare at her, she tries a diversion tactic. “I didn’t read today’s newspaper. What are you two talking about?”

  Before I get a chance to respond, Anna explains, “The elf...” I clear my throat. “Also known as Donald Griffin was murdered. He was suffocated to death.”

  “Suffocated? Like someone put a pillow over his face?” Kristie's eyes widen. “He was not a small guy. How is that even possible?”

  “He was pretty wasted.”

  “Wait! I thought the family said he wasn’t a drinker.” And now he was supposedly wasted?

  Kristie snorts. “Yeah, like parents have a clue what their children are doing.” I can’t disagree with her there.

  “Anyway,” Anna claps her hands. “It’s easier to smother someone who is already in a vulnerable state – like having a high blood alcohol level.” She acts like she is the height of authority when really, she’s a cupcake baker. The best baker this side of the Mississippi but still – not a homicide detective.

  Kristie shivers. “How horrible. Poor guy.”

  I nod. “And he was supposed to graduate this semester. He had his whole life in front of him.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Poor guy.” Anna rubs her hands together. “Can we move on to how we’re going to solve the murder now?”

  I moan. “No. We cannot. We are not getting involved.”

  “Yeah,” Kristie agrees. “I, for one, have learned my lesson about thinking I know how to investigate a crime.”

  “Fine.” Anna crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ll solve this murder on my own then.”

  Leave it to Anna to pout about solving a murder. “You have about a gazillion orders for cupcakes and cookies. You need to concentrate on filling those orders.” Although Callie’s Cakes does decent business all year round, the Christmas orders are essential in making sure we maintain a healthy cashflow.

  “Pfff… I’ve got everyt
hing covered.” I look around. The kitchen is in utter chaos. There are Christmas cupcakes and sugar cookies laying on every possible surface. “I do think it’s disrespectful, though.”

  Darn. Anna is not letting the subject of Donald’s murder go. I wish I could ignore her and go hide in my office, but I can’t. Bad things happen when I ignore my best friend. “What’s disrespectful?”

  “Well, considering Donald was your student and all,” she nods at Kristie, “and worked for you, it seems disrespectful you’re not going to his memorial service.”

  “I am going to the service.” There’s a large memorial planned at the college auditorium. I’ve already cancelled my classes, so my students and I can attend.

  “Yeah, me too,” Kristie adds. We’re planning to attend together.

  “Great. I’ll see you there then.” She turns and starts walking to the ovens, but I grab her by the strings of her apron and pull her back.

  “Why are you going? What are you planning?”

  “Murderers like to go to the funerals of their victims.” Anna and her love of pop psychology strike again. “Besides, it worked before.”

  To my frustration, I can’t contradict her. It did work before. It being finding a murderer at a memorial service. “Totally different situation. I was accused of murdering Dolly. We had no choice but to investigate when it turned out the detectives on the case were incompetent.”

  Anna points to Kristie. “This one stuck her nose in an investigation even though it had nothing to do with her.”

  “Which led to me being in danger. Not my finest moment. And not one I’m anxious to repeat.” Not to mention her boyfriend would lose his ever-loving mind.

  “You guys are no fun,” Anna grumbles. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll figure this out on my own. No way am I missing the opportunity to find out why an elf was murdered and dumped on our doorstep.”

  I nearly forgot about the dumped on our doorstep part. Was it deliberate? Is someone trying to frame me? Again? I can’t have that. I’m finally back on track with my teaching career at the college. I can’t allow my future to be jeopardized again. I raise my eyebrows at Kristie who shrugs in response.

  “Fine,” I grunt. I know I’m going to regret this. Anna shrieks and starts dancing around the kitchen. I wait for her to calm down before continuing. “But we are going to the memorial and nothing more. We’re not going to run around chasing clues and sticking our noses in where they don’t belong.”

  Anna crosses her heart. “Of course.”

  I know she’s lying. She probably has the fingers of her other hand crossed behind her back. But there’s no way I can stop her anyway. I merely hope my presence keeps her in check. I snort. Yeah, right. As if.

  Chapter 4

  Dear Santa, Define good.

  I fiddle with my skirt as I walk into the living room. It’s a tad bit too tight for comfort, but it’s the only black skirt I own, which looks halfway professional. I turn the corner into the kitchen and look up to find Ben slamming my computer shut. I open my mouth to ask him what the heck he’s doing, but he speaks before I get a chance to lose my mind. “Wow. You look…” He clears his throat. “I don’t think you’re supposed to go to a funeral looking sexy and gorgeous.”

  I snort. Sexy? Gorgeous? Yeah, right. “It’s not a funeral.”

  “Whatever.” He stalks over to me and grabs my hips to pull me flush to him. “I wish I were going with you.” I raise my eyebrows. Why would anyone want to go to a memorial service? “To make sure none of the male students try to steal my woman.”

  I don’t get a chance to respond to his outrageous statement before he leans down and gives me a quick kiss. He pats me on the butt and strolls out of the apartment. The door closes before I realize I didn’t get a chance to ask him what he was doing on my computer. Sneaky cop.

  ♥♥♥

  “Flaming candy canes! This place is packed,” Anna practically shouts when we push our way into the auditorium where the memorial service is taking place an hour later. Over 40,000 students attend the university. What did she expect?

  “Come on. There’s reserved seating in front for faculty.” I motion for Anna and Kristie to follow me down the stairs of the auditorium.

  Click. Click. I swivel to see Anna’s taking picture after picture of the students attending the memorial. I reach forward and snatch the phone out of her hand. “Hey!”

  I lean over and whisper-shout in her ear. “You are not going to take pictures of people at a memorial.”

  “Fine,” she pouts and holds her hand out for her phone. I snort. I wasn’t born yesterday.

  I resume walking down the stairs with Anna and Kristie trailing me. We find three seats at the end of the row reserved for faculty. Anna is still craning her head around, probably thinking she’ll recognize the killer on sight. She’s delusional. It’s not like we had instantaneous luck finding the murderers of the other cases we worked on. I shake my head. No. We did not work on cases. We got involved in investigations and nearly got our fingers burned. My job is to keep Anna out of trouble, not join her. Maybe if I tell myself that a million times, I’ll actually believe it.

  The dean of the School of Social Work takes the stage and approaches the podium. The crowd calms down as her heels click on the stage. I half-listen as the dean describes Donald Griffin and his academic achievements. My mind immediately returns to my apartment this morning and catching Ben on my computer. He has his own laptop, why was he on mine?

  Anna leans over and whispers, “Maybe he was doing some research for your Christmas present?”

  Oh my gosh! I’m such an idiot. Of course! Ben must have been searching for present ideas. What else would he be doing? It’s not like he would be chatting with other women on my computer. Or would he? Anna’s craziness must be rubbing off on me. Ben is not cheating on me. He’s not chatting other women up. He’s probably desperate to find the perfect present for me. Christmas is stressful. I get it.

  When I tune back into the memorial service, I realize the dean has left the stage and a different professor is now standing at the podium. I lean over and ask Kristie who he is. “His advisor,” she whispers. “Another professor in the School of Social Work.” I nod. Makes sense.

  I try to tune into the professor’s speech, but the sound of girls gossiping a few rows behind me is distracting. I open my mouth to tell them to quiet down, but Anna grabs my arm and places a finger over her mouth before pointing to her ear. I strain to hear what the girls are saying.

  “I can’t believe they’re talking about Don like he was a nice guy. He was such a jerk.”

  “Yeah. Remember when he tried to copy off my test and when I wouldn’t let him, he said I was trying to cheat?”

  “What. A. Jerk.”

  I wiggle in my chair so I can see who’s talking without being too obvious about it. I’m surprised to see two students from my Intro to World Literature class, Tanya and Allison, gossiping. They’re two of my best students. Not the type of students I expect to hear talking during a memorial service. I take note of where the girls are seated before turning around and pretending to pay attention to whoever is talking at the podium. The next forty-five minutes drag as person after person waxes poetic about Donald Griffin. I’m too anxious to talk to the girls two rows behind us, who are obviously not fans of Donald, to pay any attention.

  As soon as the memorial ends, Anna jumps out of her seat. I grab her arm to stop her. “I got this.” She sticks out her bottom lip and starts to pout. “They’re my students.” She nods at my explanation and signals with her hand for me to proceed.

  I push my way through the crowd to reach my students. “Tanya. Allison.” I have to shout to get their attention. “Can I talk to you two for a minute?” I point to the front of the auditorium, which is now empty. They hesitate for a moment before nodding and following me.

  I indicate for them to take seats in the first row while Kristie, Anna, and I stand in front of the stage. Anna opens her mouth, bu
t I grab her elbow and squeeze. “This is Tanya,” I point to the woman who accused Don of cheating. “And Allison.” I smile at them. “These are my friends Kristie and Anna.”

  With the introductions done, it’s time to get down to business. “We heard you talking during the service.”

  “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to be disruptive,” Allison immediately apologizes.

  I wave away her words. “You weren’t. We were more interested in what you were saying.” I pause, giving them a chance to speak, but they remain silent. “You said Don was a jerk.”

  “Well, he was,” Tanya insists.

  “Everyone thought so,” Allison adds.

  I nod. “Can you elaborate? We heard you say he tried to cheat off your test, but is there anything else?” Because cheating is not a motive for murder. At least not cheating off a test.