Buttercream Murder: A Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery, #17

By Rosie A. Point

Nothing goes down better than buttercream frosting. Except for murder…

When Ruby and Bee are invited to cater the Yesterday Debutante's Ball, they're thrilled. It's a great opportunity to meet the locals and increase the reach of their baking food truck. It's just a pity that the host of the party, a mom-zilla, can't stand their sweet treat offering: a cherry, buttercream cake.

Apart from that, everything's going great. That is until the dance starts and an attendee, the most hated woman in the cozy small town, is stabbed at the party with the knife that was used to cut the cake. It's murder, and with suspicions mounting, the local sheriff on their tail, and a literal mob after them, Ruby and Bee have a lot of sleuthin' to do.

Join your favorite baking duo as they figure out whodunit it in another installment of the Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery series. Grab your copy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosie A. Point
• Release date: Mar 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224729746

Book preview

1

Two weeks in Yesterday had felt like a month.

The small town had provided Bee and me with plenty to do—from serving customers on our food truck to solving the mystery of the death of a radish farmer. Oh, and then there’d been the night we’d caught the ex-sheriff stealing radishes and eating them straight from the ground, dirt and all.

Never a dull moment in this town, I said, as I parked the food truck in our usual spot on Main Street.

Bee, my baking partner and best friend, yawned, even though it was already 8:30 am, and cast a bleary-eyed look in my direction. At least the radish celebrations are over. Things are getting back to normal.

We got out of the truck, and Bee went around back to get started on prepping everything for the morning service. I opened the side window from the outside, propping it open so that the counter was shaded nicely.

The sun was bright this morning. A cool breeze and the sounds of traffic and stores opening along the street created a cozy atmosphere.

Utter idiot! A woman’s voice drifted from across the street. Nasal, high-pitched, and unimpressed.

Bee frowned and lifted her head. Hmm, so much for things being normal.

I found the source of the disturbance—two middle-aged women across the street. A blonde, taller woman in a cream cardigan and a set of pearls glared down at a shorter brunette.

I’m sorry, the brunette said, tugging on her silk blouse and flapping it around to create wind. I’m so sorry. This wasn’t meant to happen.

Both Bee and I fell silent, prepared for whatever might come, whether it was a catfight, brawl, or murder. You never knew, nowadays.

You realize how poorly this reflects on me, don’t you? The blonde straightened, her blue eyes like shards of ice. This is an important event, Lily. I’m the head of the decorating committee, for Pete’s sake. Miriam is relying on me, and I was relying on you. Pathetic! She clenched a fist.

Lily cowered, wiping her hands off on her jeans, and took a step back. Please don’t.

Don’t what?

Cause a scene. It’s not right, Lily whispered. Olivia, you know Miriam wouldn’t approve.

Who are you to tell me how to behave? the blonde countered.

Lily took another step back, then one forward, squaring her shoulders, growing a teensy bit of a backbone. I’m assistant to the president of the Yesterday Polite Ladies Club, she said, as you know, and you can’t boss me around. Only Miriam can.

Newsflash, sweetheart, Miriam put me in charge of the decorating committee and told me I can use you in any way I see fit. That means you answer to me until this event is over. Olivia poked the other woman in the chest. So, you had better work out this problem before you regret it. Do you understand me?

That backbone disappeared. Lily said something, but it was too soft for me to make out.

Good. Now fix it. Within the hour.

The hour! Lily’s head came up. But⁠—

Or else. And then Olivia stormed off, her high heels clicking on the sidewalk.

Goodness, I whispered.

At least they didn’t murder each other, Bee replied.

Lily stood there, frozen, and I took it as my opportunity to enter the truck and prep the cakes and treats with Bee. We fell into an easy rhythm—her putting out the trays under their refrigerated glass domes, and me ensuring that the coffee machine was ready to go, the soda fridge stocked.

Hello. Lily was in front of our window, wringing her hands. Hi, sorry to bother you.

You all right? Bee asked. It looked like things got heated over there.

Oh, that? That was... Lily sighed, fluffing her hair. She had bags under her eyes—the makeup she’d smeared on not enough to hide them. I’m fine. Thank you for asking. She extended a dainty hand toward Bee. I’m Lily Johnson, assistant to the President of the Yesterday Polite Ladies Club.

Bee and I introduced ourselves.

I’m sorry, the what? Bee asked.

The Yesterday Polite Ladies Club, Lily replied. We run charity and social events for the community. Certain portions of the community, at least.

You mean the wealthy echelon, Bee said, drily.

There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? Lily was doe eyed. For a middle-aged woman, she sure had a confidence problem. Or she wanted everybody to like her.

Bee poured three cups of coffee and handed them out without answering.

Oh, thank you. How kind.

It’s not only rich folks who can be polite, Bee replied.

I gave Bee’s arm a conciliatory pat. What happened out there? Who was that blonde lady? I asked.

That was Olivia Bartlett, the head of the decorating committee and one of Miriam’s friends, Lily said, her eyelashes fluttering as if she wanted to roll her eyes but was holding back. There’s this event, you see? The Yesterday Debutante Ball, and it’s taking place tomorrow evening. She’s in charge of the decoration, food, and everything else.

Ah, OK. I took a sip of my coffee.

The only trouble is, Lily continued, she put me in charge of the desserts table and... I—the local bakery was supposed to cater the event, but they pulled out at the last second, and now we don’t have any desserts. And Olivia thinks it’s my fault.

Oh dear, I said. That’s not ideal.

No. Anger flashed through Lily’s gaze. She lowered it to her coffee cup. Anyway, it’s not like the girls are going to eat the food. They’re stuffed into white ball gowns, for heaven’s sake. There’s only so much baking soda can get out. Lily paused. You wouldn’t, perhaps—no, it’s too much to ask.

Go ahead, I said.

We recently stayed overnight in a radish field to catch a thief, Bee put in. There isn’t much you could ask that would shock us.

It’s short notice, but would you be interested in catering the event? Lily asked, chewing on her bottom lip. Oh, never mind. It’s too much. It’s⁠—

Sure, I said. If Bee wants to do it.

Yeah, sounds good to me. I have a cherry buttercream frosted cake that will go nicely at a cotillion.

Debutante ball, Lily corrected. The ladies are coming out into society. Oh, but this is amazing. Thank you so much. We’ll have to exchange details and discuss payment, but I’m so happy. You have no idea how much this means to me. She clapped her hands together. Now, of course, there’s a dress code. You ladies will have to wear rose-pink gowns.

Rose-pink— Bee’s jaw dropped.

I grinned. We’ll work something out.

"Oh great. Must be pink, though, because the ladies will,