Pumpkin Spice & a Body on Ice Page 7

  “So did you run yesterday?” he asked, when I placed his breakfast in front of him.

  “Um, well, no,” I said with an apologetic little smile.

  He shook his head and laughed as he dug into his omelet. “We’ll get you back on track.”

  Since when was I his project?

  After Poppy went for her usual solitary walk, I volunteered to go to the bank that morning, but only because I had to make a stop. I wasn’t looking forward to it but it had to be done. After making the deposit, I headed back down the street. Anna Lord came outside, cleaning rag and spray bottle in hand just as I passed.

  “Oh, hello, Starla,” she said. “Out for your morning run?”

  “No, I just went to the bank,” I replied.

  “I thought you were running pretty regularly with Roby,” she said, a sickly sweet smile on her pale face.

  “I did that one morning but he’s been busy and...”

  “Oh, yeah, well, at least he solved Nadine’s murder pretty quickly.”

  “I guess,” I said with a shrug and attempted to walk away.

  “So, I guess you’ll be running with Roby again soon.”

  “I guess,” I said, wondering how quickly I could run away from her.

  “Bless your heart. I imagine it’s hard for a girl your size to run very far,” she said, honey dripping from her stinging words. “Why, Roby even said as much.”

  I was shocked, speechless.

  “Well, you try to have a good day,” she added, stepping back inside the yoga studio.

  I stood there for a moment, almost shaking with anger. When I finally started moving again, I got myself under control and headed for yet another place in town I tried to avoid at all costs – Naturally Yours.

  Chapter Ten

  If there had been another place to purchase these items I would have gone there, but this was quick and easy and I really didn’t need tons of flour. Over by her cash register, Tiffany and Chief Whitt were in deep conversation. He was the last person I wanted to see, but by the time I realized he was there, it was too late to back out. They both looked up, surprise showing on their faces.

  “Starla,” Tiffany said, not even trying to hide the surprise in her voice at seeing me in her shop.

  “Hi, Tiffany,” I said, my gaze roaming the shelves, looking everywhere but at Chief Whitt.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” the police chief said, forcing me to look at him.

  “Yes, imagine that,” I said.

  “The Chief and I were just looking at some alternative cupcake recipes. I’m entering the competition this year,” she explained.

  I didn’t take the bait. Instead, I shrugged and said, “Good idea.”

  “What can I help you with?” Tiffany asked.

  “Oh, I’ll just browse for a moment while you finish with your customer,” I said with a cold little smile at both of them and then added. “That is, if a big girl like me can fit inside these tiny little aisles.”

  Chief Whitt looked puzzled. Tiffany looked even more surprised.

  And I wandered off to study gluten free products.

  A little while later, Police Chief Whitt left the store, giving me a little wave as he went out the door. And then Tiffany was right there beside me, her eyes full of questions.

  “I’m looking for some different kinds of flour,” I began.

  “Well, we have whole wheat, flax, soy,” she said leading me to the area where I needed to be. “Whole wheat is our most popular but you can use...”

  “I know what I need,” I said, cutting off her lecture. “Thank you.”

  “Do you have local honey here?” I asked.

  “Yes, it’s right...”

  “Oh, I see it.” I grabbed a jar of the liquid gold and then checked my list.

  “Is there anything else?” Tiffany asked, hovering nearby.

  “Do you have pumpkin seeds?” I asked.

  “Yes, I do,” Tiffany said, leading me to the vast array of pre-packaged seeds and nuts.

  “Are all of these grown organically?” I asked.

  “Yes, yes they are,” Tiffany said, looking more and more confused as she followed me to the register and began ringing up my purchases. “Are you making something special for the diner?” she finally asked as I was headed out the door.

  “Something like that,” I responded as I paid for my items.

  Then Tiffany motioned for me to come closer and leaned across the counter. “You know Roby confides in me. Poor thing, he has no one to talk to about his work,” she whispered as if someone might hear.

  I glanced around the empty shop for effect while I thought about how silly she sounded. Was I really supposed to believe that the chief of police confided in her? “And?”

  “Well, now that he’s solved Nadine’s murder he has a panty thief on his hands,” she said.

  So she knew about the panty thief. If it was in the paper, I hadn’t seen it. “What if it’s the same person?” I asked. Now where did that come from?

  “Oh, I doubt that,” she said with authority. “The panty thing is probably just boys, amateurs. That murder was brutal and personal. Someone who knew her, hated her and wanted her dead.”

  “Like Tom,” I finished.

  Tiffany shrugged and held up both hands in surrender.

  “What if he’s wrong?” I asked.

  “That’s for a jury to decide,” she said quickly.

  “What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” I sputtered, grabbed my items, turned and practically ran out of the shop.

  I stowed my purchases in a special place in the diner kitchen where they wouldn’t be used by accident and went about my day. That night, I spread the recipes out in front of me on my coffee table and studied them. I’d finally decided that I should just try Gladys’s, plus three I’d found on-line and then I could tweak the one I liked best until I thought it would be perfect. Now, the trick would be to make a batch of each and test them on my co-workers and employees and maybe, just maybe a customer or two.

  I carried the recipes down into the dark kitchen, placed them on the counter where we do our baking. Lining them up, I checked for the tenth time to make sure I had all the ingredients I needed for each and then I told myself I’d get up super early the next morning to get started. There were only about two weeks left before the festival and I didn’t know how much tweaking they might need.

  Back upstairs, I showered, pulled on shorts and a t-shirt and crawled into bed. Closing my eyes, I tried to relax but Anna Lord’s words seemed to be stuck in my head playing in a continuous loop. “Big girl, huh!” I growled as I sat up and pounded my pillow with my fist. “Well, I’ll show you!” I grunted, flipped the pillow over and lay on my side.

  Then I turned to the other side. I turned onto my back, then realized it was too hot. After I kicked off the covers, I decided I was cold so I covered up again. Frustrated, I lay there staring at the ceiling.

  “This is ridiculous,” I said to myself after what seemed like an hour of forcing myself to lie still.

  And that’s when I heard it.

  I’d lived here long enough to know every creak and groan and sound this old building made at night. And the sound currently coming from downstairs wasn’t one I’d heard before. It sounded like the back door of the diner, the one right at the foot of the stairs, opening and then closing very quietly. I imagined someone stopping just inside the door, waiting listening for any sounds or movement.

  Did I hear footsteps moving down the short hall toward the diner? Could I actually hear someone walking down there? During the day it was busy and noisy but at night, well, that was a different story. But why would someone break into the Dixie Cupp? Everyone knows the deposits are made twice a day. And anyone with any sense would know that anything of value was locked in our small safe.

  I thought about the panty thief. Maybe he had escalated to aprons. Ours all hung on pegs in my small office. The footsteps (or what I imagined were footsteps) stopped. I figu
red they were right at the entrance to the kitchen. Something fell with a soft thud and I sat bolt upright in bed, my breath catching in my throat.

  My recipes! Word travels fast in a small town and by now everyone knew I’d been at Tiffany’s shopping that afternoon. Whoever had broken into the diner was here to steal my recipes! I snatched my cell phone off the night stand and punched in nine-one-one.

  An impersonal voice asked what my emergency was and I whispered that someone had broken into the Dixie Cupp Diner. Thelma didn’t work at night and our emergency calls were routed to the state police. The call would be related to whoever was on duty from our local force.

  Another thump from downstairs.

  “Are you at the diner now?” the voice asked, pleasant but focused.

  “I live upstairs,” I explained.

  “Okay, we’ve already notified someone. Stay on the line with me...”

  A series of thumps and bangs and I knew someone was tearing my kitchen apart looking for those recipes. I ended the call, tossed the phone onto the bed and decided that it was up to me to defend my property.

  My bare feet moved silently over the cold wooden floors. I knew just where to step to keep from making a sound. I unlocked the door quietly. The deadbolt sounded like a shotgun blast and I remained perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. Then I picked up the baseball bat that I kept just inside my door for absolutely no reason beyond Poppy’s insistence that I have a weapon in the apartment.

  More noises from downstairs.

  I opened the door and started down the steps. Since the place was dark and I knew it like the back of my hand, I figured I had the advantage. I moved down the steps quietly, one step at a time, which seemed to take forever. The noises were indeed coming out of the kitchen and I thought I saw a glimmer of a flashlight.

  I imagined someone opening and closing drawers, frantically searching for my new cupcake recipe. The winning cupcake recipe, I thought as I tiptoed toward the kitchen. Well, that wasn’t going to happen, not on my watch, I thought as rage shot through me. Squatting low, I passed the kitchen door and then turned around, prepared to scream like a wild woman and start swinging the bat.

  There was a blur of movement right in the dark doorway.

  “Don’t move.” It was an order, not a suggestion, from someone so close I could hear his breathing. And he was not happy.

  I froze, all of my anger dissipating into cold fear. And then the hall was filled with bright light from one end to the other. I blinked, blinded for a moment and then looked right into the barrel of a gun.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Starla, what in the hell are you doing?” Chief Whitt asked.

  “I live here,” I reminded him. Then I remembered that someone was still in my kitchen, trapped there now by the two of us. I pointed in that direction with the end of the bat. “Someone’s in there.”

  Roby pushed ahead of me into the kitchen and I heard him flick the three light switches that turned on the lights. Mr. Subtle he’s not. Another bank of lights flickered on, revealing my spotless kitchen - which was empty. The four recipes lay right where I’d left them.

  Chief Whitt lowered his gun. I lowered my baseball bat.

  “Well, I thought I heard someone down here,” I said, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

  “You did hear someone down here. I was on patrol, drove by and saw that the back door wasn’t latched properly. I thought someone had broken in and was trying to sneak up on them down here when you arrived and tried to assault me with that baseball bat.”

  “Are you sure it was you?” I asked.

  Chief Whitt looked at me and shook his head. It was obvious he was trying not to smile as he strode into the kitchen. “Do you have a place someone could hide in here?” he asked.

  I pointed toward the pantry door and prayed he didn’t try to kick it down or something. I watched as the police chief hesitated, head against the door listening. Then he jerked the door open and squatted down slightly, aiming the gun at the canned fruits and vegetables inside. He did the same thing with the gigantic refrigerator and then the oven.

  “Looks like it’s all clear, ma’am,” he said, doing his best Andy Griffith impersonation.

  “I must have just forgotten to lock the door properly when I went up to bed,” I confessed. I really had been concentrating on my new cupcake recipes.

  And, as if that admission wasn’t embarrassing enough, both of us suddenly realized what I was wearing. His gaze lingered on my chest long enough for me to realize that I wasn’t wearing a bra and the t-shirt I’d put on was so old and paper thin it might as well have been transparent.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and looked away.

  “Why don’t you go back upstairs, let me lock up and get back out on the streets?” he said softly. “I think you must be cold.”

  I nodded and raced for the stairs.

  I don’t think I slept a wink the rest of the night. And when the early alarm went off, I felt like death warmed over.

  After a quick shower, I dressed in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt and headed downstairs, exhausted. Again, those brilliant lights revealed a clean, professional kitchen filled with gleaming appliances and lots of prep and work area for its size. The incident the night before seemed far away, like a dream.

  “Chef Ramsey would be proud,” I said as I got out measuring cups and spoons, my mixer and my special ingredients.

  As I went to work, my exhaustion faded away and within an hour the kitchen smelled heavenly, with my sweet potato spice cupcakes sitting on the wire rack waiting to be frosted. The frosting for these consisted of brown sugar, honey and vanilla cooked to just the right temperature. Another wire rack held pumpkin cupcakes. The frosting for these was made of instant sugar free pudding, fat free cream cheese and several other sugar free ingredients.

  By the time Gladys and Poppy arrived, I had completed baking a batch of each of the cupcakes, frosted and ready for them to try. I led the two very confused women out into the diner and seated them. Then I poured coffee and placed a sampling of the cupcakes between them.

  “You are the first to taste my new and improved healthy cupcakes,” I said proudly.

  Gladys eyed them closely, finally chose one and promptly stuck her finger in the icing. When she tasted it, her eyebrows shot up in surprise and then she smiled at me. “This is good.”

  I nodded triumphantly from where I sat on a nearby stool.

  Poppy picked up one, sniffed it and smiled at me. “Sweet potatoes?”

  Again I nodded and sipped my coffee, feeling better by the minute.

  By now they were both enjoying their cupcakes.

  “They’re sweet like cupcakes should be but not too sweet,” Gladys said.

  “And moist, too,” Poppy added.

  “I used applesauce instead of oil for one thing,” I told them. “And I think the trick might be the correct amount of spices and some salt to play up the sweetness of the honey.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve got a winner here,” Gladys said after she’d tasted each of the cupcakes.

  “Which one?” I asked.

  “All of them,” Poppy added.

  That didn’t help me narrow it down any. “I can’t enter all four in the competition,” I said.

  “We have a couple of weeks. Let’s put them in the display case with our other baked goods, offer them to our customers and see what happens,” Poppy suggested. “Our customers will tell us which ones they like best.”

  And that’s exactly what we did. And the funny thing was, Eva and Anna Lord and Tiffany all opted for the sweet potato spice cupcakes without even realizing they were deciding their own fate. Mayor Gillespie liked them, too. Even Chief Whitt gave them a thumbs up. In fact, sweet potato spice was the most popular over the next week, with pumpkin running a close second. I tweaked each of the recipes and agonized over which one to enter into the competition.

  Something else happened during those next few weeks.<
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  Tom did, indeed, make bail. The judge decided that he was a solid business man, an upstanding citizen with no prior convictions. Not even a traffic ticket. He’d lived in Sugar Hill all of his life and was not a flight risk. And as far as everyone else was concerned, if he’d killed Nadine, she was his only target. He certainly wasn’t a serial killer. So, after just a few days, he began returning to the diner, somewhat subdued but there, nonetheless.

  One morning Poppy confessed to me that she’d confronted Tom about having a key to Nadine’s house and the argument Mrs. Blake had overheard. He swore he’d never had a key to her house and they’d never had that argument. I could tell Poppy wanted to believe him. And Mrs. Blake was getting on in years.

  Still...

  Chief Whitt teased me about my not so healthy lifestyle and I teased him right back. He only mentioned my imaginary break-in once, but that was in teasing as well. Eva and Anna Lord remained as aloof as ever, never missing a chance to revel in their new positions as police force personal trainers. I had to give it to them, our police force did seem to be looking more fit and healthy, especially Chief Whitt. They still hadn’t captured or even identified the panty bandit, but he assured me it was only a matter of time.

  Tiffany asked me several times when I was coming back into Naturally Yours for more ingredients. I didn’t tell her I was getting my ingredients elsewhere because I didn’t want her to know what I was putting in my cupcakes.

  The day I perfected my Sweet Potato Spice cupcake to enter into the festival, I uncovered my tread mill which had been used as a place to hang clothing in a corner of my bedroom. Taking a deep breath and wearing my new running shoes (which had been used exactly once) I hopped on board and hiked through the Swiss Alps. Well, not all the way through that first night. But as the days progressed, I lasted longer and longer and felt better and better about everything, including myself.