Wacky Walnuts: A Piece of Cake Mystery (Piece of Cake Mysteries Book 2)
Wacky Walnuts: A Piece of Cake Mystery
By
A. R. Winters
Wacky Walnuts
Copyright 2016 by A. R. Winters
www.arwinters.com
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.
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Wacky Walnuts (A Piece of Cake Mystery)
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Catching a killer is a piece of cake... Or is it?
When socialite Celeste Rocheford is murdered, Mindy’s best friend Beth Miller finds herself the prime suspect.
Mindy must clear Beth’s name and find the real killer – while dealing with her meddling high-school nemesis, Neve, and her former flame, Ethan Macaulay.
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Table of Contents
Wacky Walnuts: A Piece of Cake Mystery
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter One
“What do you mean, you haven’t texted him again?” said Beth.
We were sitting around in Beth’s apartment, waiting for her chocolate lava cakes to be done. It was a lovely Sunday afternoon in Santa Verona. The sunny California fall weather was perfect for a nice lazy stroll along the beach, but Beth and I chose to stay indoors. We had an important baking task at hand.
Beth lives down the hall from me, in a one-bedroom apartment that’s identical to mine. Except that hers looks out on the road in front, and mine looks out on the parking lot behind our building.
Beth’s been living in this building for almost two years now, and her place is comfy and welcoming. There’s a fluffy shag rug on her living room floor, and vintage posters advertising whiskeys on her walls. Her tabby cat Molly was asleep on the cat bed in one corner of the room, and I sat curled up on one of the comfy sofas upholstered in a bright, stripy print. Beth sat on the love seat adjacent to the sofa, and a tub-style armchair and two hard-backed seats occupied the rest of the room.
Beth is my best friend in the whole wide world. We’d gone to high school together, and although she was two years younger than me, her much greater IQ meant that she took many of the same classes I did. Beth had kind, hazelnut-hued eyes and short, deep auburn hair, and right now, she was looking at me like I’d committed a major faux pas.
“I told him I’d had fun,” I said. “And then he sent me a winky smiley. I don’t know how to respond to that.”
Part of me felt like I was back in high school, recounting my date with my boyfriend Ethan. Except, Ethan wasn’t my boyfriend anymore. We’d broken up when I’d left Santa Verona for college, and he’d gone on to become a detective in the Santa Verona Police Department. And Ethan and I hadn’t really gone on a date; it was just a dinner, as an apology for being a private detective who got in his way sometimes.
“I’m not sure how the dinner is an apology,” Beth said, then in a singsong voice added, “I think he likes you.”
I rolled my eyes heavenward and was about to make a scathing comment. Ethan and I were over. Kaput. He wasn’t my boyfriend, not since we’d graduated high school and I’d left for college. It hadn’t been a date. It had just been dinner.
But before I could say any of those things, there was a knock on the door.
Beth opened it, and Neve stepped inside, glancing around before settling down elegantly on the armchair opposite me.
I froze, my mouth half-open in an expression of horror. And then I looked at Beth, who was watching Neve warily as she sat down on the love seat again.
“Hello, ladies,” said Neve sweetly, crossing one leg over the other. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Neve was lying. She wasn’t pleased to see us, and I had no idea why she’d even bother with the pretense.
Beth said, “What’re you doing here, Neve? How do you even know where I live?”
Neve smiled at her. “I looked you up. Actually, I looked Mindy here up, and then I knocked on her door, but she wasn’t home.” Neve turned to me. “Your next-door neighbor—Joshua—saw me knocking and said you might be here.”
I made a mental note to visit each of my neighbors personally, show them Neve’s photo, and warn them never to talk to her or take candy from her. Neve was the devil.
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the actual devil, but she was pretty close. She was my nemesis, and she had been ever since high school. While Beth and I had been quiet, nerdy kids, Neve had been one of the most popular cheerleaders around. She knew everyone, and had been especially friendly with most of the football team.
Neve had spent half her time in high school picking on me, mocking my uncool outfits and non-trendy habit of reading thick books instead of glossy fashion magazines. After high school, Neve had gotten a nose job that made her look like a modern-day Marilyn, and headed off to Tinseltown to pursue her dreams.
Neve’s wealthy parents had supported her for a few years, but in the end, she’d wound up moving back to our hometown of Santa Verona. Neve got a job as a receptionist at her daddy’s friend’s law firm, just as I landed my first paying gig as a screenwriter at one of the most popular TV crime shows.
Neve’s always hated me, but when I moved back to Santa Verona a few months ago and parlayed my knowledge of fictional crime into actual crime-solving for real-life, paying clients, Neve blew a fuse. She registered to train as a private investigator and has been trying to make my life miserable ever since.
Neve “accidentally” ran into my suspects when I was last investigating a murder, and recently, I’ve seen her hanging out with Liam, a new recruit at the DA’s office.
So when she told me that it was nice to see me, I didn’t exactly believe her.
“Neve,” I said, trying to sound as smooth as she did, “what’re you really doing here?”
“Catching up with my friends,” she said, smiling at Beth and me. “I thought we should stay in touch, now that we work in the same profession. Fancy that, you and I.”
She laughed, as though she couldn’t believe that she, Queen Neve of the Homecoming, and Beth and I, Nerds Supreme, were working together. Clearly, she believed that she should’ve had a vastly superior position in life already.
“We’re not really working in the same profession,” I reminded her gently. I’d already solved quite a few homicides since moving back to Santa Verona and had vaguely been promised by the chief of the Santa Verona Police Department that I might get hired as a police consultant sometime in the near future.
Neve, on the other hand, had just started training to be a private investigator. And I couldn’t help wondering if she was just trying to become a PI in order to mess with my head.
“No,” Neve replied smoothl
y. “You’re not really registered as a PI, are you? You’re just a private citizen with no real background in criminology.”
“And you’ve got a degree in that stuff?” Beth said.
Neve turned to her smoothly. “No. But I do more than just run an online bakery called A Piece of Cake.”
Beth’s cheeks turned a little bit pink.
Neve said, “I hear you even do catering these days, not just cakes.”
“We do all kinds of things,” I said, annoyed at Neve’s uncalled-for attack on Beth. “Like solve cases.”
“Based on your knowledge of fictional crimes?” Neve raised one eyebrow at me.
I said, “Sure, if you want to think of it that way.”
Neve laughed. “Oh, don’t get so defensive. I’m just joking.”
I watched her carefully. “I’m not sure I find your jokes funny.”
“Then I’m sorry you don’t have a good sense of humor,” Neve said. “I was just trying to be friendly.”
I looked at Beth, who didn’t seem to find Neve’s “jokes” that funny, either.
Beth said, “I need to get to work on my cakes. What do you want, Neve?”
“Oh, I don’t want anything,” Neve said. “Just thought the three of us could hang out sometime. You know, sisters in crime. Friendly find-outers. Girlfriends who—”
“Gravitate to killers,” I said sharply. “Got it.”
“So?” Neve smiled at me ingratiatingly. “What do you think? We can exchange tips, share makeup advice, trade clients if we ever get too busy—that kind of thing.”
Beth was staring at Neve, mouth wide open, as if she couldn’t believe the nerve of that woman. After making our lives miserable in high school and insulting our abilities and choice of careers, Neve wanted us to help her out.
“You’re asking for a favor,” I said slowly. “You want us to help you out with your new PI gig.”
Neve tossed back her perfect shoulder-length blond hair. “Oh, it’s not a favor. If anything, I’m doing you a favor, since I’m a registered PI and you’re—”
“Not,” I said. “Got it. You’re doing us a favor.”
Neve tilted her head to one side. “I’m happy to.”
Beth and I exchanged a glance and stood up simultaneously.
“Thanks,” I said drily. “But we don’t need your help.”
“Appreciate it, though,” said Beth.
Neve looked from Beth to me, as though she couldn’t believe that we were turning down her offer. Finally, she stood up, her eyes narrowing in annoyance.
“You’ll regret this,” she said before stomping off and slamming the door to Beth’s apartment behind herself.
Chapter Two
“That was odd,” I said.
“The gall of that woman,” said Beth, taking the two lava cakes out of the oven. “Insulting us and then asking for our help.”
“It worked for her in high school,” I reminded Beth. “I just wish she didn’t keep running into us when we’re investigating something.”
“Maybe she’ll get tired of being a PI,” said Beth optimistically. “Maybe she’ll marry some rich guy.”
“Who lives in New York,” I added. “Far away from our California town.”
Beth cut two slices of chocolate lava cake—one for herself, and one for me—and we dug in, savoring the rich, cakey moistness and the warm, gooey chocolate sauce.
“Tell me about last night’s dinner,” I said. “Celeste Rocheford, huh? I thought she’d left you a bad review last time.”
“She apologized for that,” said Beth. “Said I was great.”
“Which you are,” I added. Nobody could beat Beth’s cooking.
“And she said she’d take down the bad review and replace it with a good one. Which means a lot to me.”
I nodded. Beth ran an online bakery—which now also did catering—and reviews were very important to her. “So you did desserts for this event? Doesn’t the woman have a full-time chef?”
“The chef quit two days ago,” said Beth. “And Celeste couldn’t find anyone to replace her. Celeste’s housekeeper could cook the dinner, but she didn’t know how to make desserts. So Celeste asked me to make the desserts.”
“Yum,” I said. Desserts were my favorite part of any meal. “What desserts did you do?”
“Apple pie,” said Beth. “And a carrot-walnut cake. But no walnuts, since Celeste’s got a nut allergy.”
I made a face. “Carrot-walnut cake without walnuts?”
Beth shrugged. “It’s just carrot cake, really. I don’t think it turned out too bad.”
“Well, how’d Celeste like it?” I said, finishing up my lava cake. “Has she left you a good review yet?”
Beth shook her head no. “Not yet. But I hope she puts one up soon. I mean, a review from Celeste. That would really mean something.”
“She might even recommend you to all her country club friends,” I said. “Maybe even at the next meeting of the Verona Art Gallery board.”
“I didn’t know she was a board member there,” said Beth.
“She’s a board member everywhere,” I said. “Wasn’t her stepdaughter Sharon in your high school math class?”
“In freshman year,” said Beth. “But Sharon was pretty nice. We kept in touch through high school, but I haven’t seen her since I moved back here.”
Like me, Beth had moved away from Santa Verona after high school. But while I had gone to Berkeley and dropped out after two years to pursue my dream as a writer, Beth had dropped out after two years at an Ivy League to work in a high-paying role at a biochem lab. After a few years of earning ridiculous amounts of money, Beth decided to quit, move back to Santa Verona, and indulge in a life of baking and beach-bumming. Until I moved in down the hallway and begged her to be my partner in crime. Well, partner in crime-solving, at least.
“I didn’t think you had any friends from that crowd,” I said.
Beth said, “Sharon wasn’t the typical rich kid. She actually thought before she spoke.”
Santa Verona had almost no middle class. When Beth and I were in high school, half the students came from money, and the other half came from families who worked for the moneyed.
“What was their house like?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. “Did you go inside?”
Beth shook her head. “It’s one house back from the beach, on the east side. And there’s a long circular driveway. It seemed like the kind of place with a pool out back. Maybe even a tennis court. Massive. White, Spanish-style like everything else here, of course.”
I nodded and was about to say something else, when there was a knock on the door.
Beth opened the door, and my eyes widened when I saw who it was.
“Ethan,” I said, smiling. It was good to see him again.
But his eyes weren’t smiling, and he looked from me to Beth seriously.
“I wish these were better circumstances, Beth,” he said. “I’m afraid you’re under arrest.”
Chapter Three
“What’s going on?” said Beth. “Is this some kind of joke? And where’s Matt?”
She was referring to Ethan’s partner, Detective Matt Alvarez, with whom she’d always had great rapport. I was surprised that Beth and Matt weren’t dating yet, but I supposed Matt was the kind of person who liked to take things slow.
“Matt’s on vacation, visiting his family in Phoenix,” said Ethan, stepping inside the apartment. He was followed by two deputies and a short, dark-haired detective, who stood behind him. “And no, I’m not joking. I believe you supplied some food to a party last night?”
Beth nodded. “Yes. Celeste Rocheford. She was having a party.”
“She was found today, in the early hours of the morning. Dead in her bathtub.”
Beth and I gasped simultaneously.
“How—?” said Beth. “What?”
“She died of anaphylactic shock,” said Ethan. “She had a plate next to the bathtub, with a big slice of
half eaten carrot-walnut cake. You did know that she’s allergic to walnuts?”
Beth nodded. “I made sure not to make the cake with walnuts.”
Ethan glanced briefly at me, and then looked back at Beth. “I’m afraid the cake definitely had walnuts in it. And it was the cause of her death.”
“But I didn’t put walnuts in it,” said Beth, looking like she was in shock. “I never make mistakes like that.”
“Did anyone see you making the cake?” asked Ethan.
Beth shook her head. “Mindy was spending the day helping her mom and aunt do some spring cleaning.”
The dark-haired detective who’d been standing behind Ethan cleared his throat. “Ms. Miller,” he said. “I understand that mistakes do happen. But under the circumstances, it seems that we’ll have to take you into the station for questioning. You are the prime suspect in the murder of Mrs. Celeste Rocheford, and as such, you are under arrest. I will now read you your Miranda rights. You have the right to remain silent…”
The man began to rattle off the Miranda statement, and I got to my feet. As soon as he’d finished his spiel, I said, “Beth, I’m sure it’s all a mistake. I’m coming to the station, and I’ll get in touch with a lawyer to bond you out. Don’t worry about it. Mistakes do happen,” I said, echoing the dark-haired detective and shooting him an angry look.
The detective and both deputies walked away with Beth. I was about to follow them, when Ethan grabbed my wrist lightly. “Wait,” he said.
I wrenched my hand away from him and turned to look into his jet-black eyes. He was a head and a half taller than me, and we were standing close enough that I needed to tilt my head up to look at him properly.
“What’s going on?” I said coldly.
“I don’t really think Beth has anything to do with this,” Ethan said lightly. “But it’s not my case. I just asked to come along.”
“Well, thanks,” I said uncertainly. “Why’d you do that?”
Ethan smiled, tight-lipped. “I was hoping my presence would be reassuring.”