Baking is Murder (A Bee's Bakehouse Cozy Mystery) (Bee's Bakehouse Mysteries Book 1) (3 page)

Jessie didn’t know how, but Aunt Bee had already heard about the murder by the time Jessie arrived back at the cottage. Jessie shook her head ruefully. She hadn’t known it at the time, but she’d stumbled across the scene only twenty minutes after the cops had arrived. She knew now why Toby had been so spooked.

She had tried to drop him back at Clarice’s, but they found the house dark and unoccupied. Jessie had offered to take Toby, but the man (who’d introduced himself as Mike) had vetoed the idea, saying Bee would only fatten him up with treats and he had plenty of puppy food back at his home. She’d been too shocked by the murder to wonder how he’d known who she was.

“Yeah, I took Toby for a walk and he obviously sensed something was up. He broke away from me and dashed to the scene.”

Bee glanced up from the crossword she was working on. “He broke away?” she laughed. “Clarice can’t have been pleased about that. She’s big on training and obedience. Though I often wonder why on earth she breeds pugs. Silly dogs.”

Jessie shook her head, still unable to believe she’d allowed him to get away. “She wasn’t there.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. When we got back there, the lights were off and she didn’t answer the door when we knocked.”

Aunt Bee’s lips curved into a smile. “We?”

Jessie shrugged. “One of the guys at the scene. Mike. He very kindly offered me a ride home. I guess he could see I was spooked.”

Bee widened her eyes.

Jessie turned away. She could tell what her aunt was getting at and she didn’t want to respond. “Mike took Toby for the night. Said you’d only feed him cake.”

Bee tutted. “He’s mocking me, the dear boy. He knows quite well I’d take damn good care of that dog.” She shook her head. “Very strange about Clarice, though.”

Jessie switched on the kettle. She was suddenly exhausted after chasing Toby and the shock of stumbling across a murder scene. “How do you mean?”

“Well, the woman’s virtually a recluse. You wouldn’t believe how much coaxing it takes to get her to come to the café once in a blue moon.”

Jessie shrugged. “Maybe she went to the grocery store or something.”

“Maybe. Last I heard she got her supplies delivered.”

“Mmm,” Jessie said, not really paying attention. How could she focus on the personality traits of a woman she barely knew when she’d just been to a murder scene? That had never happened in all her years of living in the city. It was the last thing she’d expected to come across in Springdale of all places. It was the most peaceful town she had ever been to in her life. She shivered.

“So who was it? Do you know?”

Aunt Bee shook her head. “They haven’t identified the body yet.”

Jessie hugged her arms around herself. “Who could have done such a thing?”

Aunt Bee shrugged. “I guess that’ll become clear when the police know more.”

“Doesn’t it scare you? I overheard one of the cops at the scene say something about ‘her’. It’s a woman.”

“Don’t you worry, sweetie. The cops here are good. They’ll find who did this. And in the meantime,” she fixed Jessie with a stern look. “Is that tea going to brew itself?”

“I don’t get it, Aunt Bee. I did exactly what you said, but it still feels too lumpy.” Jessie stopped herself from burying her buttery hands in her hair.

She had always had a sweet tooth, but she’d never been a baker. Well—she’d never been a good baker. Her cakes always came out of the oven too dry; that’s if they hadn’t hardened into a dense mess instead of rising.

She shook her head as Aunt Bee left the chopping board and came to her side. “This is hopeless. Can’t I just focus on coffees and the financial side?”

Bee pulled the bowl from her and frowned. “You know why this place is so successful?”

“Because of your charming personality?”

“Less of your cheek,” Bee said, smacking Jessie’s hand as if she were a small child. She grinned. “It’s because of the food. Sure I worked hard to build up an atmosphere and I have to ensure my prices are competitive, but that’s what it comes down to. I’ve got people who’ve been coming here for twenty-five years. They’re not coming for the décor.”

Jessie nodded. “Yes. They come for your cooking. Not mine.”

“And when I’m gone?”

Jessie flushed. “What? Don’t talk like that, Aunt Bee. It’s not right.”

There was a rustle behind them. “Don’t worry, Jessie. She’ll outlive us all, you know.”

Jessie swung around and found herself face-to-face with Julia. “She shouldn’t talk like that, you know?”

Julia shook her head like she’d heard it all before. “Who among us can control what comes out of that woman’s mouth?”

Jessie grinned. “You know her well, then?”

“Oh sure I do. She’s the only adult my daughter has ever obeyed. When I realized that, I had even more respect for the woman.”

Bee bustled off to the counter on the far side of the kitchen and began to pour the batter into a pre-lined tin with an ease and skill that Jessie knew she’d never manage.

“She’s certainly one of a kind.”

“That she is,” Julia said, shaking her head. Her expression grew serious. “Did you hear they found a body out on 552?”

Jessie nodded gravely. “Yeah. I came across the scene last night when I was out walking. Do they know who it is yet?”

“Not officially, no.” For some reason Julia glanced over at Bee. “Unofficially?”

Aunt Bee turned and shrugged, a pious expression on her face. “How should I know?”

Jessie shook her head, getting the distinct feeling that there was something going on that she wasn’t aware of.

***

“Here’s your mud cake,” Jessie said, smiling as she handed the pretty blue plate to Julia, who had returned for her usual mid-morning snack.

The morning rush was over and they’d just about finished preparing for lunch. As well as offering cakes and other sweet treats, Bee’s Bakehouse sold savory lunchtime treats like quiche and tamales during the working week. Bee had also agreed to a test-run of more substantial meals. That day it was homemade chili. Finally, Jessie had found something she could really throw herself into—she may not have been a baker, but she adored cooking. After only a couple days in Springdale, she was already dreaming up recipes they could offer if the trial was successful.

“I just bumped into Charles Daly,” Julia whispered, even though there were only three or four people left in the café other than themselves and Bee. “He’s the police chief here in Springdale. But of course you probably know that.”

“Oh?” Jessie eased herself down into the cute bentwood chair opposite Julia.

She didn’t know why she was so intrigued—murder was a daily fact of life back in the city; an unwelcome one, of course, but it happened every day. This was different, though. Jessie wondered if it was because she’d come to see Springdale as a welcome oasis away from urban life. Was she being naive? After all, it was a town of tens of thousands of people. It wasn’t exactly the wilderness.

“They’ve identified the body. They’re going to announce it soon.”

“Who is it? Is it a local?”

Julia nodded. “It’s a dog breeder from near here.”

Dread gripped Jessie. “Not Clarice,” she said, remembering the kindly expression of the woman who’d allowed a complete stranger to walk one of her expensive pups.

“No, no,” Julia said. “No, she’s from out of town, out on Route 552. You might have met her.” She thought about it. “Actually, come to think of it I haven’t seen her around much since she had that argument with Clarice.”

“Oh?”

Julia nodded and speared a forkful of cake. “There was a dog show in Glenvale a couple months back—Lydia and Clarice had a screaming argument. Apparently, Lydia was stepping on Clarice’s territory when she began to breed puggles. It was all anybody here could talk about for weeks—she’s usually so mild-mannered.”

“Oh come now,” Aunt Bee said, suddenly hovering over them with her arms folded. “It’s not nice to gossip.”

Jessie rolled her eyes and looked at Julia. “The only time she doesn’t like gossip is when she’s not the one doling it out.”

Bee swatted her arm. “Now that’s not true, young lady.” She pulled out a chair and sat down, wiping her hands on her apron. “No, I wouldn’t go blaming Lydia’s absence on Clarice.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“No. I think it has more to do with the trouble she went through with her husband.”

Jessie’s eyes widened. “Trouble?” She couldn’t help herself—Bee had a way of telling stories that just drew you in.

Bee bit her lip and nodded, knowing she had a captive audience. “They were so different, those two. She was so light and friendly. He was always such a misery, even before the diabetes.”

“Yeah, I’d forgotten that,” Julia agreed. “Before, he used to sit there in silence as she chatted to us. But it was even worse after he was diagnosed. He’d disappear into the washroom to do his insulin, which was fine. But he’d just storm out when he was finished, throw back his cake and leave without saying a word. After several mornings like that Lydia just stopped coming.”

Bee shook her head. “Poor man. She took such good care of him—he’ll be lost without her. Who would do something like this?”

Julia looked from side-to-side. “You don’t think Clarice…”

Bee balked. “No. Of course I don’t. It was a very nasty business between them, but…” she trailed off.

“How has Clarice taken the news?” Jessie asked.

“That’s the thing—I called over there last night and this morning, and she didn’t answer the door,” Julia said with a shrug.

Jessie’s eyes widened. “You don’t think she’s in danger?”

“Oh goodness no, dear. No, I’m in the dark as much as you but I very much doubt whoever came after Lydia is going to target Clarice just because she happened to breed dogs too. Their personalities are as different as night and day. Or were.”

They fell into a reflective silence that was only broken by the arrival of a local craft group for their monthly coffee morning. Jessie leaped to her feet to help them, thankful for the excuse to get away from such a morbid topic of conversation.

Jessie worked the register as the café surged with activity. Aside from the pre-work crowd, the busiest time for the café was twelve to two, when workers from the office towers on Mill Street piled onto the streets in search of sustenance. Jessie’s mind was only half on the customers.

Julia’s words swirled around in her mind as she worked, jotting down orders and making hot drinks.

Clarice wasn’t home last night.

She shook her head, momentarily forgetting what she was doing. She knew Julia was probably right—the murderer was somebody the victim knew and nobody else was in danger.

“What’s wrong with you girl?” an elderly lady in a cerise pink winter coat rasped.

Jessie smiled nervously. “I’m sorry. I got sidetracked. You wanted a white tea?”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “No. What’s wrong with you? I clearly said I wanted a tea with milk.”

Jessie’s brain struggled to work out the difference between those two statements. The woman in front of her seemed to grow even more enraged as the seconds ticked past.

“A white tea.”

“Milk on the side. On the side,” the woman growled.

“Miss Waverly.” Aunt Bee seemed to materialize from nowhere, wrapping her arm around Jessie’s waist. “Not giving my niece a hard time, I hope?”

The woman scowled. “This is your niece, Beatrice?”

Bee nodded, squeezing Jessie tight. “Sure is.”

“I pray for the sake of my digestive system that she isn’t around for long?”

Bee cackled. “As it happens, I’m hoping she’ll be around for a long time.”

The old woman turned and walked to the tiny table in the corner, grumbling as she went.

Jessie turned to her aunt in astonishment. “Who was
that
?”

Bee shook her head, smiling fondly in the direction of the old woman who appeared to be admonishing a young tourist couple for taking up a four-seater table. “That’s old Jane Waverly. You’ll get used to her.”

“Is she always so…”

“She’s a bit of a character. Harmless, though. She ordered a tea with milk on the side?”

Jessie nodded.

“She’s ordered the same thing every day for as long as I can remember. Like I say—you’ll get used to her.”

There was a gap in the flow of customers, and Jessie’s mind wandered again to her conversation with Julia. Did nobody else find it strange that one dog breeder had been found murdered and another one was apparently missing despite rarely leaving her home?

She turned around, eager to get her worries of her chest. But Aunt Bee was out back and Tania was helping a customer. She turned back to the register. Tania was only a girl—it didn’t seem right to burden her with such worries. Because what if Jessie was worrying about nothing? She didn’t know anything about the woman—for all Jessie knew it was just a coincidence and she
had
taken a trip out of town to visit family.

But then she remembered something that sent a chill through her. When she’d called to Clarice’s house to take Toby for a walk, there was something the other woman had said as she’d walked Jessie to the plush kennels at the back of her home. Jessie bit her lip. Hadn’t Clarice said something about her dog babies being the only family she had left in the world?

Jessie’s pulse raced. She didn’t know if they’d announced the victim’s identity yet and she certainly didn’t want to get Julia in trouble by telling them how she’d found out. Julia had long since left the café to go back to her store. There was no one else she could speak to. She pulled off her apron and rushed back to Aunt Bee.

“Something’s come up, Aunt Bee. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

Bee’s face clouded with concern. “What’s the matter?”

Jessie shook her head. “Nothing to worry about. Just something urgent I can’t put off. At the… bank. Yes, the bank.” She hated fibbing to her aunt, but she didn’t want to cause Bee to worry unnecessarily.