The Diva Frosts a Cupcake (20 page)

“Sick?” Alex frowned. “I don’t think so. He had a dog bite on his forearm. He made quite a scene about it.”

“Buddy! That’s proof that he has him stashed away somewhere.” We knew Buddy wasn’t at his house. Where could Maurice be hiding him? Maybe at one of the other rental properties he managed?

“Why would he start a rumor about you?” asked Alex.

Clarissa moaned and collapsed into a chair by the fireplace. “Because he’s envious of my husband’s success. You wouldn’t believe the things he’s done to us.” She peered at me through eyes that were mere slits. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Ask Moe, down at The Laughing Hound.” I resented her for interrupting my moment of romance, but it dawned on me that it might not hurt to keep Clarissa talking. Maybe she could shed some light on the jeweled cupcake.

“Would you mind staying here?” I asked Alex.

His head gave a tiny, almost imperceptible jerk. “I’d like that very much.”

“Could I interest anyone in a drink?” I didn’t wait for answers. I switched on the oven, pulled out a petite loaf of crusty bread, and hit the fridge for salty, herbed cheese with sun-dried tomatoes in it, sliced Black Forest ham, and zesty horseradish mustard.

Clarissa hadn’t moved. She remained slumped in the chair, her elbow on the armrest, her chin in her hand. “I just don’t understand. If it’s not you, then who is Spenser seeing?”

“Clarissa,” I said, slicing the bread, “was at home when someone broke into their house and burglarized it. Can you imagine the horror?” I brushed the bread lightly with olive oil and slid it into the oven to toast a few minutes.

Clarissa didn’t reveal much. She explained to Alex that she didn’t like to talk about the incident.

I spread mustard on the crostini, and layered thin slices of ham and cheese on top. Once the tray of crostini was in the oven, I mixed cold sparkling wine with vodka, mango juice, and peach schnapps. I
needed
a drink with Clarissa and Alex in my kitchen at the same time. I poured it into three tall champagne flutes, floated a fresh raspberry on top of each as a garnish, and brought them to the table. “The crostini should be ready in a minute.” I sat next to Alex on the banquette. “Clarissa, did the police ever follow up with Maurice? It seems like he would have been the prime suspect.”

“Maurice?” She said his name as though she’d never thought about it. “I’m sure they must have. Spenser dealt with the police.”

I rose to remove the crostini from the oven. Arranging them on a white oval platter, I said casually, “I saw a photograph of a golden cupcake decorated with gemstones that was stolen.”

Clarissa nodded absently. “It was a remarkable piece. Spenser bought it from Maurice. It turned up recently, which means everyone is talking about that horrid night again. I wish it would all go away and be in the past.”

Not just yet. I needed to pump her a little bit more. Especially now that I knew the connection to Maurice. Had he stolen it back because he felt Spenser had stolen it from him? “Maurice? It was originally his?”

“He had it designed for his wife.”

Setting the crostini on the table along with napkins, I slid next to Alex on the banquette. “No faaa—”

Alex’s hand squeezed my knee under the table. Was he getting frisky with me?

“Do you work in the bakery with your husband?” he asked.

Clarissa finally sat up straight and joined us at the table. She swigged back her drink, emptying the glass. “Not anymore.” She wolfed down two crostini. “These are good. I haven’t had dinner. Spenser and I worked side-by-side for years to get the business up and running. Now that it’s a chain, I still go down to the local bakery to check on things, but mostly I’m involved with charity work, that sort of thing.”

“Did you know Muffin?” I asked.

“The poor girl who was killed? Wasn’t that the saddest thing? No, I never met her. I have all the cupcakes I could ever want. It’s not like I go around buying them.”

But Spenser did. Was that research? I wondered. Or something else?

Alex ate a crostini. “You’re right about these. They’re terrific. Sophie was telling me about a dish she makes with pancetta and fava beans. Do you like fava beans, Clarissa?” It was a nice setup, even though I saw straight through his lie.

Alex watched Clarissa like a hawk, but he didn’t need to. Even I saw the surprise in her eyes.

After a long moment, she asked, “Are you a cop?”

Alex didn’t flinch. He must be one great poker player, because I couldn’t read anything in his face. But I felt his wariness as though by osmosis. Like a dog who had spotted prey, he didn’t move a muscle, letting her stew. “No, I’m not. Why would you think that?”

Clarissa relaxed. “Sophie dated a cop before.” She poured herself another drink and downed the whole thing. “Frankly, I find fava beans somewhat bland and uninspired.” Pushing back from the table, she rose. “Well, it’s been interesting meeting you, Alex.”

He stood and reached out his hand to her. “Likewise.”

She shook his hand and squinted at him. “Why do you look so familiar to me?”

“Perhaps you know my uncle, General German.”

Clarissa should never play poker. Her face went rigid, her teeth clenched, and her jaw tightened like a vise. After a long silence her initial shock lightened, her mouth dropped open, and she began to chuckle. “I can’t say as I blame you, Sophie.” Her shoulders shook when she laughed. “I presume that’s your snazzy car parked outside?”

“Yes.”

“Figures. Well, that explains everything.”

“Sophie, could I have a word with you?” She opened the kitchen door.

I followed her outside.

She fingered her forehead and looked at the ground. Raising a skinny forefinger, she said, “You almost fooled me. It took me a while to figure it out. I didn’t believe I could be so wrong about you. Wow. Dating two men at the same time. If Spenser wasn’t one of them, I’d be toasting you. I’m going to tell Spenser about your relationship with Alex, of course. He’ll drop you once he knows you’re seeing someone else, too. Poor old Spenser. Maybe he’ll come home now.”

The woman was delusional. I didn’t see the point in arguing with her. Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe now she would believe that Spenser was hers again, and she’d stop this nonsense.

She chuckled. “Do you believe in karma, Sophie?”

“Sure, I guess I do.”

“I’ve got news for you. Payback is murder!” She laughed hysterically and staggered away like a drunk, zigzagging and howling.

I returned to the kitchen.

Alex was watching her through the bay window. “That woman or her husband is trying to kill the general.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Dear Natasha,

I saw you and your dog wearing matching outfits in a picture. How did you find a leash of the same material?

—Trendy Dog Mom in Hollywood, Missouri

Dear Trendy Dog Mom,

I made the leash myself. All you need is a
³
/
₄
” to 1” round-eye swivel-bolt snap, fabric, cotton strapping, and some basic sewing skills. In no time at all, you can sew a collection of leashes to match your wardrobe. Even better, you can embellish them with embroidery or rhinestones.

—Natasha

“What?” I was reaching for my glass and nearly knocked it over. “Why? Why would either of them want to kill the general?” I scooched into the banquette.

He sat down beside me, angling himself so that he faced me. “That’s what I don’t know. Maybe you can help me piece it together. I’m fairly sure that Cake My Day is putting fava beans in their cupcakes.”

“I think there’s a fava-bean flour, so that’s not out of the realm of possibility, but it’s hardly likely that they’re using it in the vague hope that they’ll kill the general.”

“I know it seems a little bit far-fetched. Hear me out. The general has a standing order with Cake My Day. Every morning on his way to the general’s, Nick stops by Cake My Day to pick up four Carrot Cake Cupcakes. That way the general gets his sugar fix, and he has something to serve his lady friends when they drop by.”

I couldn’t help chuckling. “He serves his girlfriends cupcakes?”

“The general is still quite the ladies’ man. You wouldn’t believe how they fuss over him. My first morning here, Nick didn’t want a cupcake when he delivered them. He said they didn’t sit well with him and that he much preferred the cupcakes from Sugar Baby. I didn’t give it much thought, but after eating one that day, I felt a little tired and queasy. The next day, at the cupcake feast, I was apprehensive, because I didn’t know which cupcake came from Cake My Day. I had no problems at all. Of course, I left before trying all the cupcakes. So this morning, when Nick brought the Carrot Cake Cupcakes, I ate one. I felt fine.”

“That was dangerous!”

“It was either that or have it tested, and I figured testing could take weeks. Originally I thought they might only use fava beans in the Carrot Cake Cupcakes. Maybe it gives them a special flavor? My theory was dashed this morning when I didn’t get sick. But now that I’ve seen Clarissa’s reaction, I wonder if they’ve stopped including the fava beans out of fear they’ll be found out.”

I sat up straight as pieces came together like a puzzle in my mind. “Renee prepared her frosting for the cupcake feast at Cake My Day. Spenser claimed she had mixed up flour with powdered sugar. Then the cupcakes she baked that night at Cake My Day and tried to sell the next day had to be pitched. Spenser told me that he’d replaced all their ingredients because they couldn’t afford that kind of mix-up.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “It’s possible then, that someone used fava-bean flour at one time, but it’s now gone.”

“If someone replaced the flour with fava-bean flour, wouldn’t they have realized something was amiss? How much fava bean does it take for someone to get sick?”

“It varies. Some people are very sensitive to fava-bean pollen and get sick just from inhaling it. It’s entirely possible that fava-bean flour was mixed in with the bakery’s regular flour. No one else would have noticed, but it would have had an impact on the general over time.” His fingertips touched mine. “Do you think Spenser intentionally switched the flour with the powdered sugar so he would have an excuse to get rid of the tainted fava-bean flour?”

“I had thought Spenser might have wanted to sabotage Renee’s cupcakes, but what you’re saying makes so much more sense.” It frightened me to think that either Spenser or Clarissa would have been so calculating.

“But why would they want to hurt the general?” he asked.

“Alex, I’m somewhat hesitant to say this, especially since I’ve been the victim of an ugly rumor myself, but a couple of people have mentioned a romantic relationship between the general and Clarissa.” I sucked in a deep breath to build up courage. “Is it remotely possible that Clarissa has been adding fava-bean flour to their ingredients to knock off the general because he ditched her or threatened to tell Spenser?”

His chin lifted, and I feared I had crossed a line. “There’s a question I can get to the bottom of. The general might be a ladies’ man, but he does not lie. Not ever.”

He rose and reached for my hand to help me scoot out of the banquette. “I hope you didn’t think I was being forward earlier when I squeezed your knee. I didn’t want you to mention my fava bean issue too soon. Sorry.”

If only he knew how excited I’d been! I tried to be nonchalant, even though I wanted to leap into his arms. “No problem. I’m glad you stopped me. The look on Clarissa’s face told us more than she would ever have admitted.”

I slid out of the banquette and, much like the first time we’d met, he wrapped a strong arm around me. But this time, his lips—

My kitchen door slammed open. Natasha smiled at us, but Mars didn’t.

Natasha sailed into my kitchen, hooked her arm through Alex’s and chattered at him.

“Excuse me? What are you doing here?” I demanded.

Mars huffed a breath of hot air. “Natasha insisted on coming over to check on you.”

“I’m fine, thank you. Now go away.”

Natasha never took her eyes off Alex. “He was just leaving. We’ll walk him out. I haven’t had any time to spend with him. You must tell me—how’s the general?”

I waved at Alex. When he was out of earshot, I turned to Mars. “Better hurry, or she’ll eat him alive.”

After he left, I latched Daisy’s leash onto her and set out for a walk with a destination in mind. I didn’t care if Spenser was having an affair. It wasn’t my problem that he didn’t come home at night. But I had some questions, and he had the answers.

We walked to the hotel where I’d seen him a few nights before. It was a dog-friendly place, so I didn’t hesitate to take Daisy inside. I looked around for a house phone, found one, and asked to be put through to his room. He didn’t answer.

The desk clerk smiled at me. “Dogs drink for free on our terrace.”

“Thanks. I’m looking for Spenser Osbourne. You wouldn’t happen to know where he went?”

“I’m not allowed to say. But if he had a dog, it would be drinking for free.”

I headed straight to the terrace. Small yet inviting, it was completely enclosed by a privacy fence. A few dog owners enjoyed the spring night with their canine companions. Spenser sat at a corner table by himself, focused on an iPad.

We walked over to him. I allowed Daisy to approach him first. She nudged him with her nose and waggled all over when he petted her. “Mind if we join you?”

He set aside the iPad. “Please do.”

I have to admit that I was glad to see him in a public place. No one could claim we’d been up to shenanigans in his room. I ordered a sparkling water for me and regular water for Daisy.

“Since you have a lovely outdoor room in your backyard that is much nicer than this,” said Spenser, “I have to assume that you came here to see me.”

“I understand that you’re reluctant to talk about Maurice. But you could have told me that you bought the golden cupcake from him.”

“I told you that I bought it from someone who needed money. That was certainly true. He and his wife made some poor business decisions, so I offered to buy it. It was a way of handing them some money without expecting repayment. Okay?”

Did I sense some testiness? “Didn’t the police suspect Maurice when you were burglarized?”

Spenser wiped the side of his face. “He had an alibi that was confirmed by half a dozen people. He spent the evening at a local pub. I understand he even sang—out of tune—which proved helpful to him because it was so memorable.”

If Maurice hadn’t stolen the cupcake, then how had he come into possession of it again?

Spenser interlaced his fingers on the table and flicked his thumbs. Definitely annoyed. But I didn’t care. Since he was angry anyway, I took a chance. “Tell me about you and Renee.”

“There’s nothing to say. She was an employee of mine once. Look, Sophie, I don’t wish Humphrey any ill will, but he had that cupcake in his car. I’m happy to let the cops deal with it.”

I went for guilt. “This morning, I attended a business meeting and was ushered out in shame. Your wife insisted her organization shouldn’t hire me because I was sleeping with you. And tonight, when I was engaged in a romantic moment with a very fine man whom I would like to know much better, your wife barged into my kitchen because she thought I was with you. Now you may not like me making inquiries about your life. I understand the desire to be a private person, but Clarissa is being a royal pain in my neck. Frankly, I think I deserve some answers from you.”

I recognized that my argument went awry at the end. Maurice was probably the source of the rumor about us, and that had nothing to do with all the peculiar things that were going on, but it was all I had.

Spenser signaled the waiter, who brought him an Irish whiskey. He must have spent quite a few evenings out on the terrace if the waiter knew his preferred drink.

Spenser leaned forward, his forearms on the table. “Do you know what they call cupcakes in England?”

I didn’t.

“Fairy cakes. Renee bakes fairy cakes. They’re lighter than air. Like biting into a piece of a cloud. She’s a little bit like a fairy, too, don’t you think? She flits around, always smiling, always cheerful. There was a time when Clarissa and I were having some problems. And I was madly in love with Renee.” His eyes met mine. “I want to be clear. Nothing ever happened between us. She was my employee, and I wasn’t going to play around. Besides, I was still married.”

He nursed his drink. “Then Clarissa said she wanted a divorce. I agreed. Everything was quite amicable. That was when I bought the miniature cupcake. Renee loves miniatures, and it opens, so I thought hiding a ring in it would be the perfect way to propose.

“But that never happened.” I’d expected him to tell me of an affair, but it wasn’t that way at all. Proposing with the gold cupcake would have been charming.

“The burglary happened instead. I was away, and when I came back, Clarissa was—different. She clung to me. For a while she was afraid to be in the house alone. I didn’t have the heart to leave her then. Eventually she got back into her charity work. Now she’s ridiculously jealous. I think she’s afraid of losing me, but the truth is”—he sucked in a deep breath—“she has driven me away with her rants and tantrums. I know they stem from her fears, but I can’t live this way anymore. I moved out the day you picked up the desk.”

He smiled and stroked Daisy’s head. “I checked into this hotel because it’s dog-friendly, and I thought I’d be bringing Buddy with me. Haven’t been home since. The irony of it all was that she sold
my
grandmother’s desk. If she’d sold it to anyone but Renee, I’d have said no. That little desk suits Renee. It found the right home.”

“Thank you for sharing that. I hope things work out for you.” I stopped short of mentioning Humphrey’s interest in Renee. “I don’t suppose there’s any truth to the rumor that there’s something between Clarissa and General German?”

Spenser guffawed so loudly that dogs and their people turned to look at him. “Aw, that’s priceless. Where do people get these things? I’m afraid there’s as much truth to that as there is to the rumor about us. However, I have to give the general credit. I hope I can flirt like he does when I’m his age. He has no shortage of lady friends.” Spenser leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “He has a standing order with us for carrot cake cupcakes. Four a day. They tell me he makes a pot of coffee, serves the cupcakes, and entertains ladies! Isn’t that grand?”

I thanked him again, paid for our drinks, and said good-night.

We left the hotel through the front door. Standing like a sentinel, directly to the right, his arms crossed over his chest, was Alex.