Banana Cream Murder: Bitsie's Bakeshop Culinary Cozies, #4

By Abby Byne and Celia Kinsey

Sometimes, baking gets a little too competitive. Occasionally, it turns deadly.

 

When Bitsie is confronted by a faded celebrity baker claiming that Bitsie has stolen the woman's prize banana cream frosting recipe, Bitsie tries to shrug off the incident as being the ravings of an unhinged has-been.

 

But instead fading from view, the frosting-obsessed eccentric becomes the central figure in not one but two suspicious deaths in Little Creek.

Joined by her semi-retired police officer brother, Stan, and her too-handsome-to-be-real bakeshop assistant, Nick, Bitsie uses her natural nosiness to see that justice is served, and no sweet-tooth in Little Creek is left unsatisfied.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Cat Cozies
• Release date: Jul 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201191313

Book preview

Chapter One

Bitsie handed her sister -in-law, Liz, a sample of the latest flavor to hit the bakery case in the bakeshop.

What do you think? she asked. I’m thinking just a touch more caramel drizzle over the banana cream frosting.

I don’t think it can be improved upon, Liz said. Where did you get the idea to whip bananas into the cream frosting?

Three mornings ago, I woke up at four AM with Max pawing at my head, and while I was trying to calm him down with some kibble, it just came to me.

Poor Max. Once again, Max’s semiannual trip to the vet had culminated in a lecture from Dr. Aims that Max was too fat. That was how he came to be on reduced rations of Svelte Kitty Kibble, but it didn’t seem to be working. The poor cat was constantly hungry, and, like his owner, being hungry made him irritable.

Maybe Max should consider waking you up in the wee hours of the morning more often, Liz said. That frosting is absolutely perfect.

Lots of other people thought so, too. By the end of the day, they’d sold all six dozen banana cream cupcakes and gotten two custom orders for an additional six dozen for a function the following day.

Those banana cream cupcakes were a real hit! Anabel, one of Bitsie’s bakers, said as she collected her bag from the hook by the back door.

Is Nick still closing up out front? Bitsie asked.

He was, but there was one last-minute customer.

When Bitsie stuck her head out the door of the kitchen to see if the tardy customer had departed, she was greeted with yelling.

I want to see your boss!

A petite woman in her mid-sixties was wagging her finger in Nick’s face with such vigor that her bleached-blond bouffant wig shifted on her head, and her dangly rhinestone earrings swung back and forth like the crystals on a chandelier after a minor earthquake.

I’m sorry, Nick told the irate woman as he backed out of reach of her index finger. Bitsie left for the evening. Perhaps, I can help you.

Nick was lying; he knew Bitsie had not left for the evening. In fact, he was driving her home, and they were going to have dinner together and watch a little TV.

Dealing with complaints—not that there were many—upset Bitsie. Even before Nick and Bitsie had become an item, as Liz put it, Nick had done his best to shield her from unsatisfied customers.

How can I help you? Bitsie said, approaching the woman who’d moved on from wagging her finger in Nick’s face to striking a café table with her frail fist so hard that it wobbled on its spindly metal legs. The collection of enameled bangles on her wrist jangled together as she raised her fist a second time and brought it down on the tabletop.

Are you Bitsie? the woman demanded, turning her heavily shadowed eyes onto Bitsie and twisting her crimson-painted lips into what was supposed to stand in for a smile but wasn’t.

I am Bitsie and you are—?

You stole my recipe! The woman was practically screaming now. Bitsie hoped the frail woman didn’t collapse in a fit of rage right there on the tiled floor next to the bakery case.

I don’t understand, Bitsie said, looking helplessly over at Nick.

Nick shrugged. He appeared to be just as clueless as Bitsie was over the source of the woman’s outrage.

You stole my famous banana cream frosting recipe! the woman screeched at Bitsie. Don’t you know who I am?

Have we met? Bitsie asked.

She’d have remembered meeting this woman for sure, and even if she didn’t remember the woman, surely, she’d remember stealing someone else’s banana cream frosting recipe.

I’m Ingrid Morrison! the woman said, clearly expecting that to mean something to her audience.

It meant nothing to Bitsie, but Nick said, You’re the cookbook lady.

Ingrid seemed slightly mollified by Nick’s acknowledgment of her status as a cookbook authoress.

"That banana cream frosting recipe is set to appear in my latest edition of The Baker’s Guide to Icings and Frostings," said Ingrid.

Set to appear? Bitsie asked. It hasn’t been published yet?

It will be in bookstores next month.

The name Ingrid Morrison rang a faint bell in the back of Bitsie’s mind. She thought that Liz might have mentioned that the town of Little Creek had a celebrity chef in their midst at some point. If Bitsie remembered correctly, Liz had implied that Ingrid Morrison was a bit of a faded celebrity. According to Liz, Ingrid had been very big on cooking shows in the nineties. Liz had said quite a lot more about Ingrid, but Bitsie couldn’t recall most of it. However, the general tenor of the conversation had been that Liz was not a fan of Ingrid Morrison.

How could I have stolen your recipe if the book hasn’t even been published yet? Bitsie demanded.

Surely, Ingrid Morrison was not so delusional as to suggest that Bitsie had snuck into Ingrid’s house and taken an unauthorized peek at her manuscript.

As it turned out, Ingrid had already worked out a scenario for how Bitsie must have acquired her prize signature recipe for the banana cream frosting.

Marsha gave it to you, Ingrid said. I know she did.

A cloying cloud of perfume, which smelled like a mixture of roses and baby powder with hints of turpentine, dissipated off the irate woman. It overpowered the bakery smells: the cherry cupcakes just out of the oven, the chocolate glazed cupcakes newly added to the bakery case, and the freshly whipped banana cream frosting setting in the enormous mixer bowl, ready to go on the batch of banana nut cupcakes still in the oven.

The addition of Ingrid’s perfume was not an improvement.

Who is Marsha? Bitsie asked.

Bitsie looked over at Nick. He was trying to mouth something back at her over the top of Ingrid’s head, but she couldn’t quite make out what it was.

Your sitter? Bitsie guessed, although why an apparently able-bodied woman in her sixties would need a sitter eluded her. Ingrid was frail but very much moving under her own power.

Perhaps, Ingrid’s mind had gone, and that was why she needed someone to look after her, although Bitsie had never heard a caregiver for a grown person referred to as a sitter.

"Marsha is my sister!" Ingrid said, stepping forward as if she intended to take a swing at Bitsie.

Ingrid might be small, but she was wearing several enormous cocktail rings on her skinny little fingers. Getting hit by Ingrid would definitely hurt. She might even draw blood. Bitsie stepped back until she was plastered against the bakery case.

Marsha is my twin sister, Ingrid said, a trifle more calmly as she lowered her hands to her sides. She’s always out to get me. She’s so jealous of me that she tries to ruin everything.

I’ve never met your sister, Bitsie insisted. I didn’t steal your banana cream frosting recipe, and no one gave it to me.

I knew you’d deny it! said Ingrid. Well, I’ll make you regret this!

Then she was gone, as fast as her birdlike legs could carry her.

What was that? Bitsie asked Nick after she’d collapsed into the nearest chair.

That was Ingrid Morrison, Nick said. I figured you’d have met the sweet and sour twins by now.

Bitsie had been back in Little Creek for nearly a year now, but she’d yet to encounter these sweet and sour twins."

I’m guessing Ingrid is the sour one.

You could say that.

How could I have missed such a character?

The Morrison twins usually keep to themselves, said Nick. They live over on Elm Street.

That was only two blocks over from Bitsie’s little cottage.

They live together? Bitsie asked. That must be a life of misery for them both.

No, they have houses next door to each other. They’ve lived side-by-side since the early 80s.

Married?

Ingrid had a man living with her for years, but neither of them ever married.

And Marsha is sweet?

Mousy is a better word to describe her, in my opinion, Nick said.

So, nothing like Ingrid?

Not that I’ve observed. It always seemed to me that Marsha lived in her sister’s shadow. My grandfather had a thing for her for a while.

For Marsha?

No, Ingrid.

Ingrid doesn’t seem like Roscoe’s type, said Bitsie.

She and Granddad were both much younger then. I don’t remember Ingrid being quite so over-the-top when I was a kid.

What do you think Ingrid is plotting in revenge? Bitsie asked.

Who knows, said Nick. But I guess we’ll soon find out.

Except they didn’t have a chance to find out because the very next morning, tragedy struck the Morrison twins, and the surviving sister had no time to take revenge on the supposed theft of her prize banana cream frosting recipe.

Chapter Two

T he neighbor found Marsha Morrison lying at the bottom of her basement stairs this morning, Liz told Bitsie, "but Stan thinks