Christmas Cake Murder: A Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery, #13

By Rosie A. Point

It's time to deck the halls… with murder.

Ruby and Bee have created their newest treat for Christmas—a delicious mint-choc cupcakes with frosting Christmas tree toppers—and are in high spirits. It's Ruby's favorite time of the year, and it's made even better by Prattlebark Village's amazing Christmas traditions, including roving Christmas caroling groups.

Everything is perfectly Christmassy, until Ruby and Bee find the body of one of the carolers out on the street in front of the food truck. It's murder by Christmas trimming, and Ruby and Bee are not going to rest on their laurels this time. Solving this mystery might even uncover another...

With Christmas, murder, and mystery afoot, can the baking duo solve the mystery before it's too late? Grab your copy today and settle in for a cozy afternoon read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosie A. Point
• Release date: Mar 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224192106

Book preview

1

J ingle bells, jingle bells, I sang under my breath, as I prepared yet another box of cupcakes for a customer. Our special Christmas Cupcakes were flying out of the glass case on the food truck, thanks, in part, to Prattlebark Village’s Christmas vibes. Mostly, it was due to the fact that Bee had baked them, and she was spectacular at creating delicious treats.

These cupcakes were mint-choc flavored, with an oozy caramel center that titillated the tastebuds. Each one was topped with a frosting Christmas tree and decorative silver sugar balls.

My mouth watered as I packed them into the box. You’ve outdone yourself again, Bee, I said.

So, have you, Rubes. She gestured to her apron—red and green striped with the Bite-sized Bakery truck logo on the front pocket. I’d ordered them specially a few weeks ago and they’d finally arrived in time for Christmas.

I love this time of year, I said, smiling around at the customers lining up in front of the truck. Everyone’s so happy and festive. Here you go. I handed the box to the woman at the front of the line and accepted her payment. I rang up her order on the register and gave her the change. Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to you too, dear, she smiled.

Everyone was in great spirits. The paranoia we’d noticed when we’d first come to Prattlebark Village was gone. People smiled and chatted when they stepped up to the front window of the truck, rather than glaring or shuffling away the minute they received their treats.

I’d started loving this small town in Vermont.

You know, they say it’s going to snow tomorrow, I said. How exciting. I peered up at the gathering clouds and sniffed the air. My grandmother always said she could smell snow. I hoped I’d inherit the trait.

Bee offered me her gap-toothed grin but didn’t comment. It had been a peaceful few weeks in town—no murders or mayhem to speak of.

Hello there! Sara Robertson, our favorite councilwoman, stepped up to the front of the truck.

Sara. I nodded to her. It’s so good to see you again. How have you been?

Oh, you know, keeping busy. Things are absolutely crazy at the moment.

How so? I asked. Oh, and what can I get you?

"Two dozen of the Christmas Cupcakes, please. We’ve got an office party tonight, and I wanted to treat everyone to something special. You know, we don’t have a bakery in town, so your delish cupcakes would make the occasion."

Hear that Bee?

You’re too kind, she said, before turning to her next customer in line. A surly man in a Santa suit—the local stores had their decorations up and a few of them had hired Santas to give out flyers announcing their Christmas specials. We got at least five Santa Claus visits a day on the truck, and nary a gift in sight.

Two dozen Christmas Cupcakes on the way, I said, and brought out a sheaf of cardboard. I folded it into a large box. So, why have things been hectic?

Sara huffed out a breath, the tip of her nose pink from the cold. Oh, well Christmas is a serious affair in Prattlebark Village, dear. We have to have everything in order for the big show, and after what happened with… with my son, I’ve been struggling to keep track of everything.

I’m so sorry about that, Sara. I didn’t even want to think of that day a few months ago.

It’s just me being silly. I need to get over it. She waved a gloved hand. Anyway, yes, there are so many things to organize. We’ve already lit the Christmas tree. She gestured to it in the town square—we had a fantastic view of it all day long, the baubles, tinsel, and lights. But now, we’ve got the caroling event to deal with.

Oh, I read about that in the paper this morning, I said. It’s on Christmas Eve, right?

Correct. One of our caroling groups sings beside the tree and we hold a service, but the competition is fierce this year.

Wait a second, Bee said, as she typed in an order on the register. One of your caroling groups? Just how many are there?

Three. Sara held up the corresponding number of fingers and rolled her eyes. Their used to be one, but then there was a disagreement between the leader of the group and several of the carolers, and they split off into splinter groups. As a result, we have to hold a contest this year to decide which group will actually be caroling on Christmas Eve. You wouldn’t believe the red tape.

Here are your cupcakes, I said, handing her the box.

Thank you, Ruby. You two are lifesavers. Sara gave a sheepish smile. Literally in this instance. She paid for her treats and turned to leave.

You’ll pay for that! A woman shrieked nearby.

The line of customers rippled, shock passing through the crowd. Everyone exchanged awkward glances.

Did you really think I would sit back and let you have the top spot? Another woman’s yell, the voice raspier. I’ve worked for years for the honor of singing at the event, and you think you and your two-bit group of mewling cats can swoop in and scoop up my spot?

The crowd parted to show two women, one tall, red-haired, and pretty, the other short, round, and graying facing off against each other. The redhead wore green and red striped tights and a fitted vest, and the group of people behind her had matching outfits. The older woman had donned traditional caroling garb with a ruffled collar, the men and women gathered at her back also in uniform.

Carolers? I asked.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sara muttered. Here we go again.

Who are they? Bee put in, leaning her palms on the counter, hazel eyes alight at the sight of drama. It had been a long time since anything exciting had happened—if you considered murder exciting. Eugh.

That’s Georgia, Sara said, pointing to the redhead. Leader of the Holy Howlers. And she’s Virginia, leader of the Candy Cane Carolers. They’re the reason I’ve sprouted about ten extra gray hairs a day over the last week. They’ve always got a complaint about each other. I’ve had enough.

That caroling spot is mine, Georgia hissed, her red hair tied in a tight ponytail that must tugging painfully on her roots. You’ll get nothing. Nothing.

You cow!

The crowd gasped.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sara sighed. Ladies, that’s enough. Break it up!

Break this! Georgia yelled, and dove toward Virginia. She tackled the older woman to the ground, and they scuffled underneath the Christmas tree.

I covered my mouth. Bee sniggered. I didn’t blame her. There was something absurd about the concept of two carolers duking it out in the hopes to cheer other people’s spirits.

Stop that immediately! Sara shouted, and placed her box of cupcakes on the counter. She hurried over and tugged on a stripey-sleeved arm. Let go of her, Georgia. I swear, if you don’t stop fighting, I’ll disqualify both of you and give the spot to the Merry Jinglers.

That put an end to the fighting all right. The women practically bounced apart. Sara glared at them angrily until they retreated in opposite directions, taking their carolers with them. Not before they threw a few choice gestures at each other, though.

Good heavens, I said. Looks like Christmas is going to be exciting this year.

striped-sleeved

2

Nothing soothed the soul after a hard day’s work like a cup of peppermint tea taken next to a roaring fire. The Oaken