Cupcakes & Corpses Read online

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize that,” I respond.

  “Shauna, I have to ask, why do you think your mother stayed with him?” Miranda adds.

  Shauna shakes her head angrily. “He was Mr. Nice Guy while they were dating. Paid all sorts of attention to her, wined and dined her; she was the center of the world. But then he married her and got control of her money. That’s when he turned nasty. And everybody warned her about him. Everybody else knew what he was really like, but she couldn’t see that in the beginning.”

  “Did your mom have a lot of money?” Aranya asks. “Because I thought Morley was already extremely well off.”

  Shauna plops back down onto her desk chair. “There was never enough money with Morley. He always needed more. And my dad’s life insurance policy was enough for my mom to pay off the house and not have to worry about the bills. Of course, Morley knew this because she told him all that while making the funeral arrangements for my dad. He knew exactly how to manipulate the newly widowed Mrs. Miller.”

  “We couldn’t help but notice the argument you had with Morley at the Halloween Festival,” I point out. We’ve come this far, we might as well go all the way now.

  “I’m pretty sure the entire town saw that,” she grumbles.

  “Can we ask what it was about?” Miranda says.

  “Dear old dad,” she responds, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “doesn’t approve of my dating Neil Doyle.”

  “The waiter at the Hotel Glacier?” I turn to Miranda, who nods. “Why does he have a problem with Neil?”

  “He’s a wizard, and Morley doesn’t approve of Supernaturals and Non Supernaturals mixing.”

  “Oh,” is all I can think to say. Except now I’m extra mad. Morley is a jerk.

  “Where did you go after you left the hotel?” Miranda asks.

  “I came back here to work,” Shauna responds. “Neil was working the party, and I needed some space and wanted to cool off. I needed to be anywhere but at the hotel looking at Morley’s disgusting, smug face so I came back here.”

  I have about one hundred other things I want to ask Shauna about her stepfather, but we’re interrupted by a couple looking to use the travel agency.

  “Hi!” the woman says excitedly. “We need to plan our honeymoon, and we’re hoping you can help us.”

  “Of course, I’d be delighted to help you with that,” Shauna says, rapidly switching from someone who was angrily celebrating her stepfather’s murder to a professional travel agent in the blink of an eye. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

  She turns back to us, “Ladies, I don’t know your friend Chloe very well, but I know my stepfather treated her horribly when she worked for him like he did everyone else. And if she really killed him, then good for her, and she shouldn’t have to go to jail for killing the devil. But if you’re still looking for people who hated Morley enough to kill him, then I’d talk to Ethan Davis.

  “Ethan works for your stepdad, right?” Miranda responds.

  “And he also fought with Morley at the hotel last night,” I remind them.

  “Morley used and abused Ethan the entire time they worked together. And I swear he fired him regularly just for sport. Just so he could hear Ethan grovel. If you really don’t think Chloe did it, he’s one you should talk to.”

  “Thank you. We appreciate your help,” I tell her.

  “We’ll be on our way then,” Aranya says, giving me a look that says we’re done here for now.

  “Yes, of course, we don’t want to keep you from your work,” I exclaim. “We’re sorry to have bothered you.”

  “No bother, have a lovely day, ladies,” she responds with a huge smile. Wow, that wasn’t weird at all.

  The three of us file out of the travel agency and turn back to Marcall’s. I can only imagine what Drew would say if he realized we seem to have recruited Aranya into our efforts now.

  “Now we know what prompted her to shout at him like that in front of everyone at the party last night.” Miranda starts off the discussion.

  “She doesn’t seem to care who knows how much she hated him and wanted him dead, that’s for sure,” Aranya replies.

  “And just when you think Morley couldn’t sink any lower, we find out that he doesn’t approve of Supernaturals and Non Supernaturals together. He’s disgusting.” I add.

  “This is all really messed up,” Aranya says.

  “Char, I keep meaning to ask, are you experiencing any psychic energy with this?” Miranda asks.

  Aranya stops in the middle of the sidewalk, grabbing my arm. “You’re psychic? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It’s nothing like that,” I explain. “It’s just that sometimes I experience these bursts of psychic energy or something. We don’t even have a good word to describe it.” I shrug. “I don’t have them all the time and I can’t control them. It usually happens when there’s a lot of adrenalin and emotion involved. But to answer your question, Miranda, no, I haven’t experienced any of that yet. Not even a whisper.”

  We file into Marcall’s only to find a very annoyed Damien waiting for us. “I can’t believe you two have sucked her into this,” he chastises.

  “We didn’t mean to,” Miranda reminds him. “But since she actually knows Shauna, she was our best opportunity to get information from her.”

  “All right then, out with it,” he says, passing around sample sizes of his latest dish.

  “So, you don’t agree with the idea of us investigating who killed Morley, but you’re happy to hear about what we’ve learned?” I ask as I help myself to a bite. With Damien, we never know what new dish he expects us to try next. I pretty much just eat whatever he puts in front of me.

  “I agree with Drew. You unnecessarily endanger yourselves when you interfere in CPPD investigations. I worry about you guys, okay, but since you’ve already done it, you might as well clue me in,” he explains as we all gather around a table, snacking on the special oatmeal he’s put in front of us.

  “This is amazing, by the way. What is it?” Aranya asks.

  Damien grins. He loves it when people enjoy his cooking. “It’s a savory oatmeal. My grandma always made it. Oatmeal, onion, green pepper, veggie broth, black beans, a bit of cumin, and plantains. A very stick to your ribs kind of breakfast, if you will.”

  “You want to add this to the menu?” I ask.

  “Let me tinker with it a bit,” he responds, like always does. If I let him ‘tinker with it for a bit,’ it will never make the menu, so I’ll just add it, anyway. He’s such a perfectionist, but that’s why the customers keep coming.

  We explain Shauna’s blatant and loud hatred for her stepdad and how she makes no effort to hide any of it. But we also point out that she left the party after their fight and went back to work, so she wasn’t even there when Morley ate the poisoned cupcake.

  “But her boyfriend Neil, who Morley disapproved of, is a waiter at the Hotel Glacier who worked that night.” Damien says, pointing out something the rest of us missed.

  “She told us that,” I admit. “And he would have had access to Morley, I assume. And now you’re in on it with us!” I tell Damien as I smack him on the arm.

  “Don’t remind me,” he says, shaking his head and getting up to take the empty sampling bowls back into the kitchen to wash, cursing softly in Spanish as I often drive him to do.

  Chapter 6

  “Now that you two are here and it’s quiet, I have something to tell you,” Damien announces as he rejoins us in the dining area.

  I’m relieved that he’s telling Miranda and Aranya, and I won’t have to keep this from them any longer. It’s such exciting news. It’s hard not to mention it every time I think about it.

  “Tom and I are applying to become foster parents, and they already have a little girl picked out for us if they approve our application.”

  “That’s amazing!” Miranda squeals. “Wait,” she says when she realizes I already knew about it. “You knew?”

  “He told me earlier but then swore me to secrecy.”

  “I can’t believe you managed to keep it secret!”

  “I assure you, it was painful. Especially news like this.”

  “Who else knows?” Aranya asks.

  “At this moment, outside of my family, just you three. And I would like to keep this as quiet as possible for the time being,” he says.

  ”Is it okay if I tell Miles, though? He won’t tell anyone else, and he’ll be so happy for you!”

  “Yes,” Damien relents. “You can tell Miles. And yes, of course,” he turns to me as I open my mouth to ask, “you can tell Drew as well.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” I sigh. “It was killing me to keep a secret this big.”

  As we all hug Damien and fire questions at him, a customer comes in. “Wow!” he exclaims. “This is quite the party!”

  “Welcome to Marcall’s!” I tell him. “Where it’s always a party!” We all laugh because we’re so giddy over Damien’s announcement.

  “I’ve heard that your breakfast burritos are the best anywhere,” he says. We have a lot of regulars who I know by sight, and many who I even know by name, but I don’t recognize this older gentleman at all.

  “They are,” I tell him. “Thanks to this genius,” I announce, patting Damien on the back.

  “Well, young man, then get me a burrito, please!”

  “Would you like a Damien Special?” I ask. “It’s Damien’s secret blend of black beans, eggs, cheese, potatoes, grilled jalapenos, and caramelized onions, all layered with a secret sauce.”

  “That sounds superb. I’ll take it!” the man says.

  “Coming right up!” Damien proclaims as he hurries into the kitchen to prepare his burrito.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here?” I ask as I ring up his purchase.

  “You’re right, this is my first time, and I’m hoping to be amazed.”

  “I’m sure you will be,” I tell him. “And how about a cup of coffee on the house, since you’re a first-timer?”

  “Young lady, I love this place already.”

  I pour him a cup of coffee as he selects a seat for himself in the corner. When Damien places his burrito in the service window, I take it and the coffee out to our newest customer. “Enjoy!” I tell him, putting his food, silverware, and a napkin in front of him. “Let me know what you think!”

  I return to celebrating with the others, but this time we try to keep it low-key. I promise Damien I’ll write a letter of recommendation for him this afternoon and turn it into the foster agency in person. He doesn’t think I need to go to that extreme, but I want to know they received it for sure; I don’t want to chance it getting lost in the mail or something.

  “Excuse me, miss, do you have a newspaper here?” the man calls out to me.

  “Yes, we do!” I tell him as I bring him today’s paper. I know most people, including me, get their news on the internet, but we have some customers who enjoy reading an actual paper while they eat, so I keep the subscription.

  “Hot diggity!” he shouts, smacking the paper where the article about Morley’s death sits front and center. “That good for nothing scum bag is dead!”

  Uhhhh what?

  “Please tell me someone killed him. I hate to think he just died from a simple heart attack. He deserved far worse.”

  The four of us stare at the man in shock. I don’t quite know what to say at this point. Who could have imagined that the death of the town’s mortician would engage such passion in so many people?

  “I take it you knew him?” I ask.

  “Sweetheart, you must be new around here.”

  “Yes, kind of,” I respond.

  “Well, trust me. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I still don’t believe it myself.”

  “Oh,” I tell him, hoping he’ll expand on his story. Instead, he goes back to eating his burrito and reading the newspaper, so I quietly shuffle off toward the kitchen because I can’t think of anything more to say.

  I’m dying to ask the others what his story is. From the looks on their faces, I can tell they know, but don’t want to say anything in front of him.

  “It’s been fun, everyone, but I have to get back to my own shop now,” Miranda tells us. “Damien, congratulations! I can’t wait to hear more when you get approved by the foster agency.” Then she makes call me gestures with her fingers while pointing her head toward the man in the corner.

  Shortly after Miranda leaves, the man brings his plate, silverware, and paper to me at the counter. “Young lady, my compliments to your chef. That was delicious!”

  “Thank you so much. I’m glad you enjoyed it. What is your name, by the way?”

  “I’m Owen Munoz, and you are?” Owen says, holding out his hand.

  “I’m Charlotte. Charlotte Duffin, and I own Marcall’s,” I tell him, shaking his hand.

  “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance Charlotte, and I’m sure I’ll be back to try the other tasty items on your menu.”

  “I’m looking forward to it!” I tell him as I watch him walk out the door.

  But just as the door starts to close, Drew walks in.

  Chapter 7

  “Drew!” all three of us chorus.

  He holds his hands up. “Before any of you can even ask, I’m not at liberty to say a thing about the investigation right now. But I have a free moment, and I wanted to stop in and say hello and get some of your delicious donuts because you know I’m addicted to them. But please, don’t ask me any questions.”

  Last summer, Damien and I developed a donut by combining Damien’s cooking talent with a little of my witchcraft. Tastes exactly like a regular donut but with half the calories. We sell out of them constantly and even had a large corporation offer us a ton of money for the recipe. But we’ll never tell. We’re keeping them in Marcall’s, where we have control over how they’re produced.

  “I hid some donuts this morning just for you, Detective Bailey, just in case.”

  “You’re the man, Damien!” Drew exclaims, pointing at him.

  Damien ducks into the back, but not before I notice him blushing. Both he and Tom like to refer to Drew as Detective McHotty behind his back. Yeah, I know, my boyfriend is ridiculously handsome, and sometimes it’s downright embarrassing. Even Gladys, who’s old enough to be his grandmother, enjoys flirting with him.

  While Damien places two donuts in front of Drew, I pour him a cup of coffee. “Since the good detective won’t be answering any of my questions at this time, why don’t you explain what that was about with Mr. Munoz and Morley.”

  “Munoz was here?” Drew asks.

  “He was leaving just as you were coming in. I’m surprised you didn’t see him. And why are you asking like that? Is he a suspect?”

  “The better question is, why do you ask?” Drew responds. “You know you shouldn’t be investigating Morley’s murder.”

  “Because he obviously hated Morley.” I throw my hands up and turn to the others. “And I’m dying to know what the story is with him and Morley Haynes.”

  Damien takes a deep breath. “Owen’s wife passed away a couple of years ago over in Cripple Creek where they were on vacation celebrating their 60th anniversary. Morley picked up her body in the company hearse and was supposed to bring her right back here so they could begin the funeral arrangements.”

  “Uh oh.” I already have a bad feeling about where this is going.

  Damien nods his head. “Ol’ Marley decided to sneak in some gambling at one of the casinos while he was there.”

  “With Mrs. Munoz body in the hearse?” I ask, horrified.

  “Yes ma’am!” Damien confirms.

  “This doesn’t end well, does it?”

  Aranya shakes her head.

  “While Marley was in the casino, a couple of teenagers thought it would be funny to steal a hearse and take it for a joyride.”

  I gasp, throwing my hand over my mouth.

  “The teens insisted they didn’t mean any harm by it. They just planned to drive around town and take pictures of themselves, assuming they’d have it back in front of the casino well before Morley came out.”

  “Instead,” Aranya takes over, “since they were inexperienced drivers to begin with, they had extra trouble handling a hearse. They hit an icy patch on the road, slid down an embankment, and rolled it.”

  “Oh, that’s awful.”

  “And it gets worse,” Aranya says. “The back door broke open, the casket flew out, and Mrs. Munoz ended up in the river.”

  “This actually happened. In real life?” This is like a tale out of a movie or a weekly tv crime story.

  “In real life,” Damien says, nodding his head. “Poor Mrs. Munoz body was then carried down the river. And it just happened to be a year where there was intense water runoff from the mountains, so the river was moving extra fast, which flung her body from rock to rock. By the time she ended up downstream, she was so badly mangled that they couldn’t even conduct a showing at the wake.

  “They had to cremate her body instead. Owen never blamed the teenagers. He blamed Morley for not coming right back with the body like he promised. Said he couldn’t believe that Morley would stop to gamble when he was responsible for something as sacred as someone’s body.”

  “I can’t imagine what the Munoz family went through. That’s heartbreaking.”

  “Now you know why Owen Munoz is one of a long string of people who are extra happy to hear of his death.”

  “Did anybody see Mr. Munoz at the hotel last night?” I ask.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Drew says. “Just stop right there. I know exactly where you’re going with this.”

  “What?” I ask him innocently.

  “You just added Owen Munoz to your list of suspects you want to interrogate, which you shouldn’t be doing in the first place.”

  “I shouldn’t be adding him to my list?”