Murder by Rainbow Cake: A Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery, #10

By Rosie A. Point

Somewhere over the rainbow cake… is murder

When famous crooner, Drake Haynes, comes to town, all Ruby and Bee want is an autograph and maybe to get him to try their new rainbow cake recipe. They get a dead body and another mystery to solve instead—one that involves a few of their closest friends, none other than Mrs. Rickleston and her mortal enemy, Lucy from the nail salon.

Now, the baking duo has to juggle cake-baking, a possible blossoming romance, and the prospect of leaving Muffin behind, all while trying to figure out whether the person who murdered a celebrity might be on the start of a small-town slaying spree.

Can Ruby and Bee figure out whodunit before it's too late? Grab your copy and find out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosie A. Point
• Release date: Dec 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223949343

Book preview

Chapter One

I don’t think I’ve seen you this nervous, Bee said, wielding my brush and pointing it at me in the mirror. You’ve got to relax. He’s just a guy and this is just a date.

I scrutinized my reflection, trying not to focus on what was to come. I’m fine, I said. I just don’t want to make a fool of myself. A part of me still thinks it’s some kind of mistake or that he’s… not really interested?

Well, if Hanson wasn’t interested, he’s got a real strange way of showing it, Bee replied. Asking you out, fawning over you—

He hasn’t fawned over me, I replied. Maybe I should call this off. It’s been a stressful few weeks.

No way! Bee ran the brush through my should-length chestnut brown hair then set the brush on the dressing table in my room in the Runaway Inn. You deserve to go out tonight and have a lovely time with that hunk of a man.

Bee, I said, checking myself out in the knee-length summery dress I’d put on. He’s more than just a hunk. Try not to objectify him.

I’m not objectifying him. I’m just appreciating his natural manliness. She wiggled her silver eyebrows at me then checked her watch. Anyway, you’ve got to get out of here or you’re going to be late. For that very important date. I’ll walk down with you.

I didn’t tell her she should stay up here. I needed the moral support.

It might’ve been silly, but I hadn’t had a date in ages. The last time hadn’t exactly gone well, what with the dead body and all. And before that ‘event’ was just a chasm of time and loneliness.

We headed downstairs to the lobby and found it empty except for Mrs. Rickleston. The owner of the inn sat at her reception desk, a magazine open in front of her, but her gaze flickering to the archway that led into the dining area.

Good evening, dears, she said. Ready for dinner?

Ruby’s got a date, Bee replied. But I’ll be enjoying whatever sumptuous meal your chefs have prepared tonight.

There’s beef schnitzel on the menu. Mrs. Rickleston rose and peered into the dining room, clasping her hands together.

What’s going on? I asked. Who are you looking at? I followed her gaze and found a crowd of women gathered around one of the tables, gripping notepads and pens.

Guess who’s here? Mrs. Rickleston hissed, now wringing her hands and squirming on the spot. Oh, you’ll never guess. It’s so exciting I can barely contain myself.

Is it the president of the town council? Bee asked, flatly. We’d found out Mrs. Rickleston happened to be that man’s biggest fan.

No, no, of course not. Mrs. Rickleston circled the polished walnut reception desk and took hold of my arm. You’re not going to believe it, but Drake Haynes is staying at the Runaway.

Who’s Drake—?

Bee’s excitable squeak cut me off. It was such a strange noise coming from her that I lost my words. My friend, the stoic, had come over flustered. She did an impersonation of Mrs. Rickleston, wringing her hands and swapping her weight from one foot to the other.

Who’s Drake Haynes? I repeated.

Ruby, Bee breathed. How can you not know who Drake Haynes is? He’s like the Frank Sinatra of our time.

And even more handsome, Mrs. Rickleston put in. Dark hair, swarthy and charming. She let out a girlish squeak too, clapping her hands together. And he thanked me for running such a lovely inn. He said he didn’t want to stay at the motel and that mine was the only guesthouse in Muffin worth visiting.

That’s nice, I said.

Nice? Nice! It’s more than nice, it’s fantastic. Mrs. Rickleston’s gray hair quivered. If she wasn’t careful, she’d pop from the excitement. He’s a celebrity, and he’s here, in Muffin.

What’s he doing here? Bee craned her neck to catch a glimpse of him, though she probably couldn’t see anything past Drake Haynes’ crowd of fans.

He’s on tour, Mrs. Rickleston said. Apparently, he’s visiting all the smaller towns in the state because he knows how many fans he has here and that not all of us can get out to one of the cities to watch his shows.

Bee swooned. She actually swooned. When is the show? Ruby, we have to go see him. You’re going to love the way he sings. I swear, once you’ve gone to a Drake Haynes concert, everything will pale in comparison. It’s like his singing colors the world and without it…

Sapped of its luster. Mrs. Rickleston nodded furiously.

Right, I said. I guess we’ll go see him then.

You guess! You mean you’re sure. When is the concert? Bee directed the question at Mrs. Rickleston.

A clamor broke out, and we all turned to watch Mr. Haynes emerge from the dining area followed by an entourage of women of every age. I had to admit, Mrs. Rickleston was right about him being smooth.

He wore his hair slicked back and dark, and his eyebrows were two sharp ticks above dark and broody eyes. His lips were redder than they should’ve been, and he flashed first Bee and then me a confident smile. Drake wore a suit, his tie loose around his neck, his hands tucked into his pockets and his posture slouched—a total cool cat.

Good evening, ladies, he crooned. Are you guests of this fine establishment as well?

Y-y-ye-lo, Bee whimpered.

She means we are, I replied. Guests. Nice to meet you. I’m Ruby, and this is my friend Bee.

Pleasure is all mine. He swept my hand into his and placed a kiss on the back of it then did the same with Bee. Thankfully, she didn’t pass out on the spot. She’d gone catatonic instead and stared at him wordlessly.

I hope you lovely ladies will attend my concert tomorrow night? There are still tickets available, he said, affecting a relaxed pose while women hovered and tittered and orbited.

Sure, I said. Probably. If we have time.

We’ll be there! Bee practically screeched it.

If Drake had been assaulted by the decibel level, he didn’t show it, and simply gave Bee another of his white-toothed grins. That’s great, he said, in an accent that brought Brooklyn to mind. Real great. I’d be happy to see you there. Listen, I’m gonna head out for the evening though. A night with the missus.

You’re married? Bee yelled the question.

I took hold of her arm and squeezed. Hopefully, it would relax her a little. Or snap her back to reality.

Not married, no, just dating, Drake laughed.

The women gave a collective sigh of disappointment.

A figure appeared on the inn’s threshold, and Drake clapped his hands together. Ah, here she is now.

Lucy, our friend from the nail salon, entered the Runaway Inn, the purple streaks in her hair glinting. She was dressed to kill in a black cocktail number and dramatic makeup, and she blushed the minute she laid eyes on Drake.

There you are, he said, and swept her into an embrace.

Mrs. Rickleston made a noise like a choking donkey.

Hey baby. Lucy swooned just as much as Bee had.

B-baby? Mrs. Rickleston continued with the honking noise. Baby?

Everyone looked over at her.

Baby? Mrs. Rickleston thundered.

Is there a problem? Drake asked, his perfect brow trying to wrinkle but not quite getting there.

Yes, there’s a problem. That woman… Mrs. Rickleston pointed at Lucy, her stubby-nailed index finger shaking. That woman is not allowed in my inn.

What? Why not? Drake asked.

It’s complicated, I said. Mostly to do with the wrong color nail polish.

Nail polish?

"It’s more than just