Murder by Cupid Cake: A Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery, #23

By Rosie A. Point

It's the most romantic time of the year… for murder.

 

Traveling bakers, Ruby and Bee, are having a fun, albeit frosty, time in the small town of Bourbon, Kentucky. Every day, they park their truck beside the frozen pond and serve the friendly locals delicious treats. With Valentine's Day on the horizon, Ruby and Bee are sure it's going to be the best holiday ever.

 

Until they arrive at their usual spot and find a corpse floating beneath the ice! A woman has been murdered and the girls are desperate to take the case. The local police and firefighters, however, are convinced that it was an accident—a result of thawing ice.

 

Can Ruby and Bee prove there's a murderer on the loose before they join the victim list? 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 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224881529

Book preview

1

Y ou could kill a person quite easily with an ice skate, Bee said, as she applied a layer of cream cheese frosting to her latest creation—the Cupid Cupcake.

Who, me? I was in charge of placing the cute candy hearts atop each completed treat. I’d attempted to do so with precision, but Bee was great at distracting me, hence the row of cupcakes with heart toppings that were either askew or sunken into the frosting.

Of course not, Bee said. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. Unless the fly was a murderer.

"What on earth made you think about that?"

What? Murderous flies?

No. The ice skate thing. I pretended to hit someone with an ice skate.

Hmm. For someone who wouldn’t hurt a fly, you’re great at miming murder.

I rolled my eyes at my best friend. There was never a dull moment with Bee around. Was that technically true? It had been months since we’d left Sleepy Creek, Ohio, where we’d encountered a dead body and an unforgettable private investigator.

Since then, we’d had no new cases to write home about. Not a single murder. Or mystery. Or dead body.

Bourbon, Kentucky, was quiet. And filled with friendly locals. People who loved visiting our truck, even though it was wintery cold and a layer of snow coated the ground most days. Every day, we’d park the food truck beside the frozen pond in the center of town and watch the town’s residents skate and play around on the ice.

I mentioned the ice skate thing, Bee said, because of them.

I followed her stare.

Out on the ice, three skaters glided across the frozen pond, doing beautiful figure eights even though it was the crack of dawn and positively freezing.

I wouldn’t have attempted it if you paid me, not only because I was a klutz on the ice but because the Bite-sized Bakery food truck was equipped with two heaters that worked overtime to keep our backs warm, even with the front window open.

You think they have a reason to murder each other? I asked, nodding toward the skaters.

No, Bee replied. But you never know with people nowadays. Bee’s tone dropped to a grumble. "And it’s been a long time since anything interesting has happened."

Bee, you can’t seriously⁠—

One of the skaters, a tall, beautiful young woman with her blonde hair in a bun high on her head, launched herself off the ice. She tucked her arms to her chest and spun around twice in mid-air before sticking the landing on one leg, the other pointing out backward.

I gasped. Bee broke into applause.

There’s something interesting, I said after I’d caught my breath.

I’ve seen people do that on TV but never in person. That was fantastic.

We should give her a cupcake for that, I said. For free.

A cough came from the right, close to the window of the truck, and I leaned forward, instantly regretting the sting of cold against my cheeks.

A homeless woman sat on a bench nearby, bundled up in layers, her hands in front of her face, fingers poking from worn gloves. She coughed and huffed on her hands continuously, trying to warm them.

I nudged my best friend.

We should give her a cupcake too. Bee’s brow wrinkled.

And a cup of coffee?

Excellent idea. Bee set about preparing a fresh pot of coffee, and I boxed a cupcake for the woman. What was she doing out here in the snow? Why sit near the pond? Had she slept out here in the cold? Surely not. She would’ve died of hypothermia, for heaven’s sake.

We’d been in Bourbon for a few months, but I wasn’t sure whether they had a homeless shelter yet. I hoped so. The thought of this woman sleeping out in the cold bothered me.

I took the cup of coffee from Bee, grabbed the box with the cupcake inside, then headed down the side steps of the truck and out into the cold. The snow around the frozen lake had been trampled into the ground.

Hello. I stopped next to the woman. How are you?

She squinted up at me. She was probably in her early thirties, though her gaze was hard and guarded. Cold.

Here. I handed her the coffee and the cupcake. That might warm you up.

She stared at the items for a moment then shrugged. Thanks. She popped open the lid of the coffee cup and inhaled the scent.

Out on the ice, the talented skater, the one who had pulled off a loopy-doo double axel, or whatever it was called, skated to the center of the pond, dipped low and performed a beautiful spinning circle on the spot.

I like to come out here and watch them during winter, the homeless woman said. It’s amazing.

It is, I agreed. I’m Ruby, by the way. My friend on the truck is Bee.

Gina. The homeless woman kept her eyes on the skaters rather than me. If I could, I would’ve gotten into that sport. It’s so graceful.

Like dancing on ice, I said. Have you ever watched the Winter Olympics? They have figure skating there too.

Once. Long ago.

I cleared my throat. I wanted to segue into asking if she was OK without being rude or prying. No mean feat. What did you⁠—?

The thumping of footsteps on the path that led toward the lake interrupted me. Gina and I turned.

A young man stormed past, his boots thudding heavily on the ground. He was handsome, though his angular jaw was set in anger. He marched out onto the ice, nearly slipped and fell then rebalanced and continued on.

What’s his problem? Gina mused.

Victoria! The man’s shout traveled across the lake.

The gorgeous figure skater in her silvery blue dress stopped on the ice, her skates sending up a spray of white dust. She fisted her hips and stared at him. Dan? What are you doing here?

My insides did a little twist. Dan. That was the same name as my ex. The man who had disappeared and made me a laughing stock back in New York.

I pushed the thoughts aside.

I could ask you the same question, he said. Why aren’t you at the rink? You’ve got to be crazy to be out here.

You know the rink is closed.

I know that you like to take unnecessary risks. This is dumb, Vicky. He stopped in front of her, and, even though they were pretty far out on the ice, their voices traveled.

You’re causing a scene.

Yeah, and so? I’m the one who has to deal with your injuries if things go wrong, Dan said.

We literally just started dating, Dan. You don’t have to deal with anything. My skating career is my problem, not yours, so why don’t you relax? And get off the ice before you slip and injure yourself.

The skater’s boyfriend heaved out giant breaths that misted in front of his face. The lake isn’t safe.

Victoria tapped the blades of her white skates on the ice. Seems safe enough to me. Then she skated off, winding across the frozen lake toward the other side, where houses and shops flanked the lake along a boardwalk.

Wow. She’s spirited. I liked that. Bee was spirited too and would certainly never have allowed a man to tell her what to do.

Victoria! Victoria, get back here or I swear I’ll⁠—

But Victoria skated circles around her boyfriend—literally.

Oh look, I said, she’s coming this way. I turned, offering a smile to Gina, but was greeted by an empty bench. Where on earth had she gotten off to?

Before I could find her, Victoria skated to a halt and clomped off the ice toward the food truck’s window.

2

Ireturned to my post on the truck, curiosity getting the best of me. Victoria stood grinning at Bee, her cheeks rosy thanks to the cold and her eyes bright.

Good morning, Bee said. What can we get for you today?

A hot cup of coffee please. Black. No sugar or cream.

Coming right up, Bee said.

Victoria rewarded her with a gracious smile then turned her head, watching her boyfriend through narrowed eyes. He stood in the center of the lake, glaring right back at her. Finally, he huffed out a breath and marched across the ice. He didn’t say anything to Victoria as he passed the truck.

Is everything all right? I asked. Your conversation out there seemed a little heated.

Hot enough to melt ice, Bee said, and placed the cup of coffee on the counter.

Victoria paid for her coffee and dropped the change into our tip jar. Yeah, Dan gets like that when he doesn’t get his own way. I’m Victoria, by the way.

Ruby.

Bee. My friend nodded, considering the figure skater from head-to-toe. He doesn’t want you to skate?

Victoria laughed, a musical tinkle that drifted out over the ice. He doesn’t want me to get hurt. Gosh, I’ve had a relationship with the cheesecake in my fridge longer than the one with Dan, and he thinks he can tell me what to do. I would be mad, but he means well. I think.

Why is he worried about you? I asked, chewing on the inside of my cheek. My thoughts wandered to Jamie, my long-term boyfriend. He’d also acted overprotective in the beginning of our relationship, and it had been stifling. Isn’t it safe out there?

It’s safe enough, Victoria said. Besides, the local ice skating rink is closed for renovations. The dumbest time of the year to do renovations if you ask me.

I had no idea there was an ice skating rink in town, I said.

Oh yeah. Bourbon has a whole history of producing the best figure skaters in the country. A lot of former Olympians were born and raised right here and trained at the Bourbon rink.

Is that your goal? I was unable to keep my curiosity at bay. For heaven’s sake, the woman had done a double axel whatsy-doosit on the ice. To go to the Olympics?

Eventually. Victoria took a sip of her coffee. But I can’t do much training out here, especially when I have Dan chasing me down like I’m some dog off her lead. It’s ridiculous. You know, I’m starting to see the sense in not having a boyfriend. My coach warned me about this. My mother hates that I’ve dated guys instead of focusing on my career, but, eh, you’ve got to live a little, right?

Sure. There was a hint of skepticism in Bee’s tone.

Thanks for the coffee, Victoria said. It was lovely to meet you both.

You too.

She clomped off then swept out onto the ice, skating smoothly even with a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. Sheesh, it wouldn’t be steaming for much longer out there.

What a strange morning, I said. First the homeless woman and now an argument on the ice?

Where did she disappear off to, by the way? The homeless woman.

No idea. One second she was there, the next she was gone. I guess she got cold or tired of the drama or something.

We settled into our morning routine of sipping coffee and watching the skaters. It was early February, and the temperature in Bourbon had started rising, at least in comparison to how it’d been in January. Still the coffee warmed the soul. In Bee’s case, it nearly put her to sleep. She was strange like that—too much coffee and she’d pass out cold. Only sugar kept her brain whirring away.

A good thing she’d chosen to