Dark Chocolate Demise (7 page)

“Paulie, if you hit me with that fake arm one more time, I swear I'm going to shove it right where the sun—”

“It's them,” Mel said. She unlocked the dead bolt and pushed the door open. “Hey, guys.”

Al and Paulie jostled their way into the room. Mel glanced past them out onto the street. Could she really afford to close the shop just because they were all on edge about a murder?

What if it had been Angie in the coffin? Her heart felt like a lump of ice in her chest. She slammed the door and locked it. She'd figure out what to do when all of the facts were in.

“We came as fast as we could,” Al said. He crossed the room to where his sister stood, looked her over, and then hugged her hard. Paulie did the same.

“We ran into Stan and Manny,” Paulie said. “They told us what went down. I'm sorry you had to go through that, Mel.”

He doubled back and gave her a quick hug. Al took his place when he was done.

“We were on the other side of the park when word came that there had been a shooting,” Al said. “At first no one believed it, but when the crime scene van arrived people started to freak out. It's chaos over there.”

“I said to Al right away, ‘I bet Mel and Angie are in the middle of this,'” Paulie said.

He helped himself to one of the mini sample cupcakes Mel put out on the counter every day; today's flavor was the strawberry banana, a strawberry cake with banana-infused buttercream. He popped it into his mouth in one bite and reached for another. Angie smacked his hand away.

“He did,” Al confirmed. Then he looked at his sister. “And you were, weren't you?”

“Only because the body was stuffed into our coffin, and Mel happened to find it,” Angie said.

“And because we thought it was you,” Tate added.

He sounded breathless at the mere idea, and Mel felt bad for him. She knew exactly how he was feeling: relieved and yet still terrified that the hit had been meant for Angie. Then she felt horrible because Scott didn't get to feel the same relief about his wife, Kristin. Instead, he was left with just grief.

“Uncle Stan and Manny will figure it out,” she said. “Whoever killed Kristin Streubel won't get away with it.”

“You knew her?” Joyce asked.

“I met her just once,” Mel said. Then she sighed. “At her wedding.”

A thumping knock sounded on the front door. Again, they all jumped. Marty was closest to the front window and he peered out behind the shade.

“Holy bananas!” he cried.

“What is it?” Mel asked.

“Looks like the undead are preparing to storm the place,” he said.

Mel glanced out the window. If she were in a horror film, she would have started screaming. A mob of zombies ten rows deep was standing on the front patio.

Marty turned to look at her. “What do we do?”

Mel saw a mother with two little girls dressed as princess zombies. They all looked traumatized and Mel realized that what had started as a fun family outing for them had taken a nasty turn. They needed some comfort stat.

“Tate, take Angie home and stay there,” Mel said.

“But—” Angie started to protest but Mel cut her off.

“No,” Mel said. “Until we know for sure that you weren't the target, I want you out of sight.” When Angie looked about to protest again, Mel gave her a pleading look and said, “Please.”

“Fine, but only until we have more information,” Angie said. “I'll be back at work tomorrow.”

Tate looked relieved and flashed Mel a grateful look.

“We'll go out the back and I'll lock up behind us,” he said.

He gave her a quick hug and Mel took the opportunity to whisper, “Keep working on her.”

Tate nodded when he let her go. As soon as they disappeared into the back, Mel crossed to the door. She glanced at Al and Paulie.

“Are you two willing to stay on as cupcake bouncers?” she asked. “Anyone acts up, you take them down, no questions, no hesitation.”

“With pleasure,” Al said. He cracked his knuckles, looking a little too eager.

“Dial it back a little,” Mel said. “I'm not looking for a lawsuit. I just want to contain any crazy.”

The brothers nodded and assumed their positions by the door.

Mel nodded at Marty and he flipped the CLOSED sign to OPEN and she unlocked the door. She could only hope that among the living dead that poured into the bakery, no one was a killer.

The next three and a half hours passed in a blur of buttercream. The zombies were ten deep at all times, and other than the fifteen minutes she escaped to go shower, Mel was on duty for all of it. And for the first time since it had opened, Fairy Tale Cupcakes ran out of cupcakes.

After the last customer had departed, taking Mel's last Blonde Bombshell with them, she closed and locked the door even though it was still two hours until official closing time.

Joyce and Marty collapsed into a booth while Oz lay down on the counter, looking like he might never move again. Mel surveyed the wreckage of the shop with weary eyes. Good thing they'd closed early, because it was going to take her a few hours to clean up the crumbs, paper liners, wadded-up napkins, and used glassware that had been left behind.

Al and Paulie had gone outside to do a sweep of the building. They came back in through the back door and collapsed in another booth.

“The building is clear,” Al said. “And with Tony's surveillance system in place, if anything funky happens, we'll know.”

Mel wondered why she didn't find this as reassuring as he meant it to be.

“I'm going home and taking a hot bath,” Joyce said. “Do you want to come with me, Melanie?”

“No, I can't,” Mel said. “Not until I know what's going on. Besides, I need to do some serious baking.”

“We'll keep an eye on her, Mrs. Cooper,” Al said.

“Thank you,” Joyce said. “You're good boys.”

“Marty and Oz, why don't you two call it a day, too?” Mel asked.

The two men exchanged a worried look.

“I'll be fine,” Mel said. “I've got these two and apparently a camera all spying on me.”

“Not spying,” Paulie protested. “Surveilling.”

“Is that even a word?” Al asked.

“Sure it is,” Paulie said. “As in, ‘I'm surveilling the sitch.'”

“Another made-up word,” Al said.

Mel rolled her eyes and then made a shooing gesture with her hands at the others. “Go before I change my mind and make you suffer with me.”

“Come on, Joyce, we'll walk you to your car,” Marty said.

Joyce paused beside Mel to give her a fierce hug. “Be careful. If you change your mind, come over no matter how late.”

“I will,” Mel promised. She followed her mother through the kitchen, locking the door behind Joyce and her escorts.

Mel turned around and found Al and Paulie raiding the walk-in cooler.

“Uh, Mel, I don't want to alarm you,” Paulie said. “But you've been robbed.”

“What?” Mel asked.

“See for yourself!” Paulie said. “There are no cupcakes in here. None.”

Mel relaxed against the steel table that sat in the center of her kitchen.

“I haven't been robbed,” she said. “We sold out.”

“Ah!” he gasped, looking horrified.

“That's a good thing, dummy,” Al said. “It means business is good.”

“Yeah, but I'm hungry,” Paulie whined.

Mel was about to offer to make him some eggs, when a noise sounded from the front of the bakery.

“Get down!” Al ordered.

Mel dropped to the ground behind the table.

“Don't move,” Paulie said. “We got this.”

She peered under the table as the two brothers scuttled their way to the swinging door that led to the front of the bakery.

Al eased the door open and Paulie rose up behind him and leaned on his back so they could both peer through the crack.

“Do you see anyone?” Al asked.

“No, open the door a bit wider,” Paulie said.

“Ugh, I would but I can't support you and open the door,” Al complained. “How much do you weigh, anyway?”

“It's all muscle,” Paulie snapped.

“Really?” Al asked. “'Cause it feels like a lot of baby fat pressing on me.”

Bam!
The kitchen door was shoved open, smacking the brothers back onto the ground. Paulie clutched his forehead. Al moaned and grabbed his nose.

“Who's there?” Mel grabbed a cooking pot from the rack under the table and jumped to her feet. She was not about to let anyone cut off her right hand over a sandwich or anything else.

“Me, it's just me,” a voice answered, sounding forlorn.

Mel glanced at the kitchen door to find Chad Bowman standing there, still in his zombie hipster getup, looking lost and confused.

“I was in the bathroom,” he said. “The next thing I knew the lights were off and the front door was locked. I couldn't get out.”

Mel lowered the pot and blew out a breath. Her closing procedures had been shot to heck tonight. No one had checked the bathroom.

“I'm so sorry,” she said. She walked past Chad and led the way back into the main bakery. “We forgot to check the customer bathrooms. I'll let you out.”

“Not your fault,” Chad said. “I'm sure it was the feds. They probably have a gadget that locks people in rooms so they can snatch them. They're trying to stop me, you know. They have me under constant surveillance.”

Mel couldn't help but glance at the camera in the corner of the shop. She gave it a sour look. Maybe Chad wasn't just a conspiracy nut. Maybe he could sense he was being watched even now.

“You'd better hurry on home then,” Mel said. “I imagine you're safer there.”

Chad glanced out at the dark street. He shivered and when he looked at Mel, his fear was palpable.

“
They
did it, you know,” he said. “They killed her and I know why.”

Mel felt her heart thump hard in her chest. Did Chad know something? Had he seen something at the zombie walk?

“What do you know, Chad?” she asked.

“She really was a zombie,” he said. “The dead woman was infected with the chemical gas that could make us all zombies, and they killed her because they didn't want anyone to know.”

Okaaaay.
So Chad was crackers and not too tightly wrapped. Great.

“Go home, Chad,” Mel said. “Get some rest.”

“You believe me, don't you?” he asked.

Mel hesitated. If she said no, he would stand there badgering her all night. If she said yes, he might think they were allies or friends and start hanging around. Hmm. How was she going to get rid of him?

“I believe that you believe it,” Mel said. Then she gave him a pat on the back that was more of a shove, and she shut and locked the door behind him.

On that peculiar note, Mel decided to call it a night. She'd get up early to clean and bake. She had no stamina for it now. All she wanted at the moment was a glass of wine, her leftovers from last night's meat loaf at her mom's house, and a snuggle with Captain Jack, her mischievous cat.

It took an ice pack and the promise of future cupcakes to get rid of Al and Paulie, but she was feeling very determined. She loved her friends and family, truly. She even had great affection for many of her customers, but right now she just wanted to be alone, completely and utterly alone.

As she climbed the steps to her apartment above the shop, she thought about her longing for quiet, and then she felt a heart-pinching pang of terrible because she knew that Scott Streubel was going to be facing an awful lot of alone, too, and she knew he'd give anything for it not to be so.

It seemed a sick sort of irony to her now that she'd only seen Kristin twice, and both times she'd been dressed as a bride. Mel remembered the first day she'd seen her, with her bridesmaids all dressed in bright yellow. At the time she'd thought they all looked like brilliant butterflies as they hovered around Kristin and her bright bouquet of sunflowers.

When had that been? Six months ago? Kristin and Scott had had less than one year of wedded happiness before it was cut short. How was that right? How was that fair? And just like that, the sadness Mel had been feeling was squashed, hammered down by a meaty fist of rage that made her wish she could do some damage to the evil bastard who had done this to the young couple, especially if it turned out that they were really gunning for Angie.

She unlocked the door to her studio apartment and stepped inside. She'd forgotten to put a light on and it was dark, so she braced herself, not knowing where her favorite fur ball was going to attack from. Captain Jack's greetings were always an enthusiastic combination of yay-you're-home and here-are-my-claws-digging-into-your-skin. Mel figured it was his passive-aggressive way of telling her he'd missed her, too.

She waited for a beat but he didn't greet her, which was odd, but didn't explain the hair rising on the back of her neck. In an instant, Mel knew that something was wrong. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did. Someone was in the room with her.