Candy Cake Murder: A Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery, #9

By Rosie A. Point

What's the worst thing that could go wrong at a surprise party? Murder…

Ruby and Bee are finally back in Muffin after a week-long break at the campgrounds. They've been hired to cater the birthday of one of the knitting circle's members. That means baking this week's signature treat: candy sprinkled strawberry cupcakes and serving them to uppity old ladies prone to gossip.

Everything's going great… until the 'birthday girl' keels over after taking a bite of one of their cupcakes. Even worse, the victim is related to an exceptionally handsome and familiar detective. Ruby and Bee must solve the murder or risk losing more than just their freedom this time.

Join the baking duo for another mysterious caper! Grab your copy of Candy Cake Murder today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosie A. Point
• Release date: Dec 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223565116

Book preview

Chapter One

Is everyone in position? Violet Keller, the host of the surprise birthday party called from the front doors of her mansion. She’s going to arrive soon. You there, catering ladies, make sure you’re ready with the cupcakes. I want her to have one the minute she walks in. Do you hear me?

Yes, Mrs. Keller. I lifted my tray of cupcakes so she could see them.

Bee didn’t do the same. She grumbled under her breath at being lectured, and I didn’t blame her. We’d spent all afternoon baking cupcakes in the kitchen of Violet’s upscale home in Muffin, Massachusetts and, for once, it hadn’t been fun.

The hostess had swept into the kitchen and interfered several times, forcing us to take breaks or give her a taste of a cupcake or to ensure that the candy sprinkles were just the right flavor and texture to suit the strawberry buttercream frosting. All the while, she’d fluffed her puffy red hair and made comments about how she’d have done this all herself if she only had the time—that had, of course, annoyed Bee to no end.

But this was our first big job since arriving back in Muffin after our little campground vacation. We had agreed we wanted to make a good impression on these ladies.

Is everyone ready with their knitting needles? Violet scanned the room of celebrators. She was the head of Muffin Knit It Good Club, and most of the attendees were members as well. Women all around the grand entryway and through to the living room, held their knitting needles aloft and clicked them together.

You can’t tell me you’re not a little bit creeped out by this, Bee whispered, as the clicking ensued. Look at them all. They look like they’re about to have a feast.

They are. A feast of cupcakes. I lifted the tray.

Bee rolled her eyes. She held two cupcakes on her tray. They were the ‘special’ cupcakes. One for Violet, marked with star sprinkles, and one for the birthday girl, Moira, with moon sprinkles.

She’s coming! Quiet, ladies, quiet! Violet hit the lights and we were plunged into gloom. Nobody moved.

For a moment, I was back in Maine in the Oceanside Guesthouse and it was my surprise party—and the day one of the guests had been killed and found strewn across the gifts table.

I shook my head, clearing it of the horrible image, and focusing on the present. Everything was great. We’d been back in Muffin for two weeks without incident, serving people on the food truck, parked next to the duck pond every day.

The front doors opened, and two figures entered.

Surprise! The lights flicked on, and the newcomers were cast into sharp relief.

One was Moira for sure, she wore a pink pashmina and her gray hair in curls, and the other—

My stomach dropped then lifted and fluttered like it had spontaneously filled with bees.

Is that…? Bee trailed off.

A man had entered with Moira—handsome, blond and stocky, with a slightly crooked nose as if it had been broken before and bright green eyes. It was Detective Hanson, the police officer who we’d met back at the Tomahawk Trail Campgrounds during our vacation. The same man who’d winked at me before we’d left.

My face grew hot.

Bee nudged me. We’d better start serving these cupcakes. I didn’t dare look at her—she’d be grinning from ear-to-ear. You know what? You take these. Bee handed me the tray of two special cupcakes for Moira and Violet. It’ll be more interesting if you serve the birthday girl. She took my tray and hurried off through the crowd to serve them to the other knitting club ladies.

I swallowed.

This is silly. He’s just some guy.

And I had a job to do—bringing the sparkly cupcakes to the hostess and the ‘birthday girl.’ I drew my shoulders back and walked toward the three people near the front doors, my heels clicking on the marble flooring.

I smiled and presented the tray. Happy Birthday, Moira.

Detective Hanson did a double-take. Ruby, he said.

Hello. My cheeks were already growing pink.

Thank you, dear, Moira said, taking the cupcake with star sprinkles. She bit into it and chewed enthusiastically. Delicious!

Delicious? Violet asked. It’s a miracle you can taste a thing, you old bat. She laughed and looped her arm through her friend’s. Let’s go, dear, the ladies are about to put on a show.

A show? Moira asked, dropping her cupcake wrapper on my tray.

The Dance of the Knitting Needles, Violet said.

Wonderful!

The women walked off without so much as a thank you, leaving me with the handsome detective. Though, was he technically a detective when he was in Muffin? He didn’t work at the local police station.

Ruby, Hanson said. How are you?

I’m fine, I replied. How are you?

Good. Just taking a short vacation. It’s my grandmother’s birthday. He nodded to Moira. I thought I’d come up and spend some time with her.

I nodded, slowly. That’s nice of you.

An awkwardness followed, and I struggled not to stare at the man. He was even more handsome out of uniform—wavy blond hair, clean shaven, and wearing a neat button-down shirt.

Nice seeing you again, I said. I’d better get back to work.

Right. Take care. He looked as if he wanted to add something else, but I didn’t hang around to hear what it was.

I had business to focus on. There were plenty more cupcakes to be served and Bee would need my help. Besides, Hanson was nothing more than a friend who had been kind to us during our stay at the campgrounds. There was no reason to be flustered around him or treat him differently to anyone else.

In the kitchen, I placed the tray on the granite topped kitchen island and grabbed one of the others that lined the counters. Moira was a popular woman, and if the ladies of the knitting club enjoyed our cupcakes, we might be asked to cater other events. We could always use more business.

What are you doing here? Bee asked, sweeping into the kitchen to drop off an empty tray. You should be out there talking to Mr. Handsome.

Bee, I’m not interested in men at the moment. We’re going to leave in a few weeks, so why would I be?

My friend sighed. He likes you.

And I like cupcakes, I replied. But a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.

That’s a terrible metaphor for this situation.

I waved away her complaint. We’re having the time of our lives in Muffin. Let’s not ruin it by overcomplicating things.

Whatever you say. One of the things I liked about Bee was that she never pressured me too much. She’d say what she had to say then move on from it rather than pressing the issue. We’d better get out there. Those ladies need their energy—I overheard one of them say they’re about to do some sort of dance?

I followed my best friend out into the living room area, where the ladies had gathered in front of a table. Moira and Violet sat waiting, occasionally making a comment to one another, the setting sun visible through the window, orange among the pink clouds.

Ready ladies?