Murder by Milkshake: A Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery, #22

By Rosie A. Point

Nothing goes better with milkshakes than burgers… or is that murder?

 

Traveling bakers, Ruby and Bee, are excited when they stop in the Main Street of small town, Sleepy Creek, Ohio. They're ready to serve their delicious treats to the locals until… Bee ends up in a milkshake-flinging confrontation with a customer wearing leopard print pants and rhinestone-spangled glasses.

 

When the girls open up the food truck the next morning, they're horrified to find the crotchety customer's corpse right beside it. With the local detective on their case, a rather strange and brash private eye hounding them for details about the murder case, Ruby and Bee have their work cut out for them.

 

Not only are they prime suspects, but there's… milkshake everywhere! They've got to figure out whodunit before they take the fall for the crime.

 

Prepare for a cozy mystery mash-up as Ruby and Bee meet their match in Sleepy Creek, Ohio. Can they solve the case before their new frenemy, Christie Watson from the Burger Bar Mystery series does? Find out in the next installment of the Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery Series. Grab your copy today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosie A. Point
• Release date: Mar 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224292660

Book preview

1

S leepy Creek, Bee mused, as I parked the Bite-sized Bakery food truck at the end of Main Street in the first spot. It sounds ominous.

Ominous? I asked, frowning and peering out of my window at the paved sidewalks, the wrought iron lamps, the trees losing their leaves on the side of the road. The buildings were quaint with glass storefronts and striped awnings, people popping in and out of them, exchanging pleasantries or going about their shopping or business. It’s perfectly delightful. One of the prettiest towns we’ve visited.

Yes, but with a name like that? Remember what I said before we left Yesterday? It sounds like Sleepy Hollow.

It’s highly unlikely that we’ll encounter the Headless Horseman here, Bee, I said. You just want to see creepy things around every corner.

Halloween is little over a month away. Bee unclipped her seatbelt. And we have stumbled across several dead⁠—

A sharp rat-tatting against Bee’s window interrupted her, and she jolted in place then wrinkled her nose.

See? You’re creeping yourself out, I said.

We turned, and I offered a smile to the woman outside Bee’s window—a short, gray-haired lady wearing a pink frilly apron. She didn’t smile back, but knocked again, her knuckles white with fury, judging by her expression.

Uh oh, I murmured.

See? I told you I had a weird feeling about this place.

We should probably find out what she wants.

Ruby, every time we’ve had an angry local from a town approach us, it’s always ended badly. And you know what I mean by that. Murder.

The woman continued knocking. Open up, she shouted, muffled.

She seems distressed, I said.

Deranged is the word you’re looking for.

I can hear you!

You’d better open the window, I whispered.

Bee grunted, but rolled down the truck’s window allowing in a nippy breeze from outside. It wasn’t as cold as our visitor, however.

The woman glared at us, folding her arms across her cutesy apron. What do you think you’re doing here?

"We were having a conversation until you so rudely interrupted us," Bee said.

There are laws, you know. Laws that should be respected. Laws that stop people like you from parking in places like this, the woman continued, on a rampage it seemed, and I won’t allow you to come here, peddle your trash and upset the entire neighborhood. We have plenty of reputable establishments in this town, thank you very much, without your type moving in and⁠—

Bee raised a hand. Who are you?

It was surprising that my best friend hadn’t gone in search of a cupcake to mash into this woman’s face yet. Perhaps, she was learning patience. Or there was a worse storm brewing.

Dolores, the woman replied, fluffing her hair. She had a wart to the left side of her nose, and an exceedingly sharp set of green eyes. Owner of Dolores’ Bakery, the only true bakery in town. I’ll go to the mayor and the town council, the Gossip Circle too, if you so much as think of opening your truck on these streets.

The Gossip Circle? Bee asked.

Dolores, I said, interjecting before things could get heated. My name is Ruby, and this is Bee. We’re not here to stir up any drama. Besides, there are plenty of customers to go around. I gestured to the townsfolk striding down the sidewalks. And I checked the legalities of running a food truck in Ohio. We’re allowed to park here.

Dolores opened and shut her mouth, no sound coming out.

So, I’m afraid we’re going to deny your request and ask that you back away from our truck, I said, my nerves skyrocketing. I was not good with confrontation. That was more Bee’s thing.

Yeah. Before we call the cops on you for harassment, Bee added.

Harassment! You’re the one harassing the people of this town with your truck. Besides, every town has unique laws. I’ll be checking with the council about this. You mark my words. And then she huffed and marched off.

That was pleasant, Bee said. A perfectly pleasant town.

Fine. You were right. It’s not perfect. But it’s pretty and cozy.

And interesting, Bee replied, darkly.

Let’s explore. Maybe we’ll find someplace nice to eat.

Or more roving restaurateurs with emotional issues, Bee griped, but got out of the food truck anyway.

We strode down Main Street, admiring the various stores, from an antique shop, to a florist, to a secondhand bookstore that I itched to check out. Look there, I said, pointing at a restaurant up ahead. The Burger Bar. That sounds like a good place for a late brunch.

Isn’t a late brunch just lunch?

Either way, we’ve got some time to kill before we head to our guesthouse, I said. We’re supposed to check in after three.

Right.

Bee and I entered the Burger Bar, a bell tinkling merrily above it’s glass front door, and were instantly enveloped in delicious scents and homey sounds. The interior was decorated in a retro diner style with red-vinyl cushioned booths, and a milkshake bar at the back of the room, a large mirror spanning the wall behind it. It was busy, the customers sitting at their tables eating burgers and fries out of baskets with checked paper.

It smells amazing in here, Bee said, and touched a hand to her stomach. I’m starving.

We chose a booth on the right and a soft-spoken server with doe-eyes came over with menus. Good morning, she said, I’ll be your server today. My name is Hedy.

Hi, I said, brightly. Is there anything in particular you’d recommend?

We have a special on our Double Delight Bacon Burger this week, Hedy said, her cheeks coloring. And the milkshakes here are popular.

Great! I’ll take one of those burger specials and a vanilla milkshake, Bee said.

Same for me, except with a chocolate milkshake.

I’ll be right back with your drinks. She removed our menus and hurried off.

Things are looking up, right? I grinned at Bee across the table.

At least in the culinary department. Bee scanned the interior of the restaurant. Hopefully, none of the locals decide to attack while we’re halfway through our meal.

I laughed and shrugged. I couldn’t help being happy. It was good to be in a new town, one that hadn’t yet experienced any terrible murders. Don’t jinx it!

—believe she’s so brazen? The woman’s voice came from the booth behind ours. A group of ladies sat gossiping, and… I did a double-take. All of them wore identical outfits. Pink leather jackets, leopard print pants, rhinestone pink sunglasses.

Of course, I can believe it, another of the women said—middle-aged with blonde hair and bright red lipstick, her sunglasses perched atop her head.

I glanced at Bee, but she’d already cottoned onto the conversation. I didn’t stare, but turned to face my