Murder and Marshmallows: A Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery, #15

By Rosie A. Point

Marshmallows have never been this tasty... Or this murderous!

When Ruby and Bee arrive in Grapefield, New York, for a winter's end getaway, they're sure they're in for a relaxing break. But the local bakery has been shut down by the health inspector and everyone in town is clamoring for their baked goods.

The opportunity seems too good to pass up until Ruby finds the body of the baker buried in the woods. With suspicions mounting and a murderer on the loose, it's up to the baking duo to solve the case before their vacation ends.

Join Ruby and Bee in another food truck sleuthing adventure. Grab your copy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosie A. Point
• Release date: Mar 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224503667

Book preview

1

L et’s hope nobody gets murdered this time, Bee said, flashing me one of her signature gap-toothed grins.

Hardly the most positive sentiment for the start of our vacation. I steered the food truck down Grapefield’s paved main road, checking that Jamie’s Porsche was still following us.

It’s a getaway, Bee replied. And you know I’m a realist.

I laughed. It’s a pretty town. You never know, Bee, we might end up staying here for longer than a week. Wouldn’t want to upset the locals, right?

I’ll reserve judgement. Bee scanned the cute stores lining the street. It was early in the morning so most of them were still closed, but a few owners had emerged to put out clapboard signs outside their front doors.

One of them, a grocery store owner with ginger hair, glared at the food truck as it passed him by. Eek. Hopefully, the people in this town would be as accepting as they had been in Prattlebark Village.

Gosh, it was strange to have left that place, but it had probably been the right time to go. We’d made enemies with the most popular woman in town, after all. One didn’t cross Francescan and hang around to experience the wrathful aftermath.

OK, so the guesthouse is a couple blocks from here, I said, glancing at the screen bearing the directions on the truck’s dashboard. But Jamie said that check-in time is only after ten, so we should probably stop for some food first, and⁠—

Uh, Ruby?

Yeah?

There are people following us.

I frowned and checked the mirror.

Bee was, shockingly, right. People walked behind us—some of them wearing aprons, others in regular clothes. The redheaded guy who’d stared us down was among them. They marched just ahead of Jamie’s Porsche.

Uh… I was at a loss for words.

We’d been going at a snail’s pace, enjoying the sights and sounds of a new small town—that had given the folks following plenty of time to catch up.

It’s like a small-town zombie apocalypse, Bee said, drily.

What could they possibly want?

Brains.

Bee.

Maybe it’s a welcome parade. Like a town tradition. Without the streamers or smiles.

Bee was right on the last point. None of the townsfolk following the truck were smiling.

Jamie honked his horn to get them to clear out of the road, but it didn’t work. The people kept pace with the truck—and I didn’t want to speed up in case we got separated from my boyfriend. He didn’t need directions since he was the one who had organized everything, but I didn’t want to leave him in case this strange behavior from the locals turned hostile.

Are they mad about us being here? I asked.

Can’t be. They don’t know us. Bee tapped her chin. Weird. They’re not brandishing sticks or anything.

And so, we continued down the road, trailed by the crowd. The further we drove, the bigger the group became. Cars joined in behind Jamie’s, creating a long train that clogged up traffic.

This is getting out of hand, Bee said, pursing her lips. How much further?

It’s just up ahead.

I steered the truck around a bend in the road and arrived outside a double story guesthouse—no gates or fences out front but with a section for parking instead. The guesthouse was a wood building with a red roof. It had doors with latticed glass windows, and was styled like an old farmhouse with white windowsills and a sweeping lawn that reached from the parking area up to the front steps.

I parked the truck in an empty spot and the crowd of followers stopped outside it. I half-expected them to start clamoring over the hood or trying to tip us over, but nothing happened—no commotion, just the dull hum of people talking.

They’re… good heavens. Bee snorted a laugh. Ruby, they’re forming lines outside the side window. They want us to serve them.

We exited the food truck, just as Jamie parked his shimmering Porsche in the space beside it. He emerged from its leather interior, pulling sunglasses from his face, his expression bemused. So many customers already?

I cleared my throat, color creeping up my throat. Excuse me, everyone, I said. Excuse me.

The crowd quieted—a shifting of bodies and a whisper here or there.

Sorry, I said, the heat reaching my cheeks, but we’re not here to serve baked goods. Just to have a vacation.

A collective groan rose from the people outside the truck.

Sorry. Sorry, I repeated.

Jamie grabbed his bags from the Porsche and ours from the truck while the townsfolk slowly dissipated—though a few of them hung back. Maybe they thought we’d change our minds?

They wanted food, Bee said, slowly. How strange. Surely, there are other cafés or restaurants in town.

We passed a few, I replied.

Good. Jamie joined us on the sidewalk. Because I was planning on taking you both out to dinner tonight. Apparently, this guesthouse serves a delicious lunch.

My stomach grumbled. It was still early, and we hadn’t even had breakfast yet, let alone the other meals.

I turned toward the Squeezed Grape Guesthouse and we started up the dirt path that wound across the grass toward the steps.

It’s not check-in time yet, Jamie, I called. We should probably leave the bags in the car.

The door swung open and a woman wearing a pair of jeans and a checked shirt emerged, tying her hair into a ponytail. She was in her forties, with wrinkles around her eyes. Hello there, she said. You must be Jamie.

Jamie shook her hand. This is my girlfriend, Ruby, and my friend, Bee.

Nice to meet you all.

Bee and I nodded to her.

Welcome to the Squeezed Grape, she said, gesturing to the guesthouse. My name’s Eleanor, and it’s a pleasure to have you here. You’re a little early, but that’s no problem. Come on inside. She opened the door then grabbed some of our bags and carted them in.

A young man, her assistant I assumed, met her at the front desk and helped with the suitcases.

I see you had an entourage this morning, Eleanor said, smiling warmly. Thanks, Ted. She shot that at the bellboy. They’re in rooms, four, five, and six.

Yeah, Bee said. What was that about?

It looked like half the town followed us from Main Street, I put in, leaning against Jamie—he’d slipped his arm around my waist.

People like sweet stuff around here, Eleanor replied, tucking her hands into her jean pockets. And until about a week ago, we had a single operational bakery that made a killing.

What happened to it? I asked.

Closed because of a health code violation. Eleanor hesitated. Are you planning on selling baked goods in town?

No, I said, quickly. It’s just a vacation for us.

Oh. Pity. Well, let’s get you settled in, shall we? Our hostess proceeded behind the reception desk. Breakfast will be served at 9am, if you can wait a little while? We do have a coffee bar in the dining area with a few cookies laid out, though.

That sounds great, Jamie said, releasing me and coming forward to get everything organized.

We’re glad to have you in town, Eleanor said. There’s a lot to do out here, though you wouldn’t think it. A car show too.

Car show? Jamie perked up.

Yes. And an exhibition at the local museum. I have all the brochures here for you to check out, she said.

We’ll be sure to look,