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The next morning, Mitch left for work while she munched granola in the kitchen. Annie had already eaten chicken in gravy for breakfast.
“I’ll try to be home for dinner,” Mitch had told her, giving her a tender kiss before departing.
She realized with all the drama about Thelma racing into the café yesterday afternoon, she’d forgotten to tell him about her conversation with Donald.
All night she’d dreamed of making a new cupcake, running around everywhere trying to find a recipe.
“Brrt?” Annie asked, jumping onto the chair next to her.
“We need to come up with a new cupcake idea.”
“Brrt!” Annie’s green eyes lit up.
She tried to think about all the different flavors she’d already experimented with: Norwegian apple, lavender, raspberry crumble, blueberry cream, lemon meringue, mocha, carrot – the list went on.
Closing her eyes, Lauren drifted off for a few seconds in cupcake daydreams. What about—
“Are you ready?” Zoe burst into the kitchen.
“Did you knock?” Lauren snapped her eyes open, jolted out of her cupcake musing.
“Oops – sorry.” Zoe knocked on the open back door. “There.”
Lauren raised an eyebrow.
“Okay. I really am sorry. Sometimes I forget we’re not roomies anymore, even though it’s been two years. And when we were roomies, I didn’t need to knock when I came in.”
“No, you didn’t.” Lauren realized that was true.
“Did you tell Mitch about Thelma storming into the café yesterday?”
“I did, and he said he needs more evidence before he can arrest her.”
“Oh, good. I hope it’s not her. Especially when she wrote such an awesome story about the premiere, and managed to fit in so many people’s photos into the newspaper.”
“That was thoughtful of her,” Lauren agreed. “And good business sense.”
“Yeah. Hey, I wonder if she’ll end up as editor of the Gazette? Phil will probably retire one day.”
“That’s an interesting idea. I bet Thelma would like that.”
“So if Thelma didn’t kill Nathan, who did?” Zoe tapped her cheek. “What about Jill? She wasn’t around much at the premiere.”
“Didn’t she say she had to rush back to Sacramento to file her story?”
“And then there’s Donald.”
“Who apparently has been alibied by half the town, from what he said to me yesterday,” Lauren replied.
“Huh.”
Lauren finished her breakfast and they set off down the private hallway to the café.
“Hi, Ed.” She poked her head into the commercial kitchen.
“Hi.” He was up to his rolling monster pins for arms in dough and flour. “Have you heard from Martha?”
“Not since she left the café yesterday. How about you?” She wondered what their brief conversation had been about, but she didn’t want to pry.
“No. Let me know if she comes in today, will you?”
“Okay.” She started making the cupcakes, deciding on mocha, red velvet, and lemon meringue that morning.
“Ooh, lemon meringue,” Zoe said a while later when she brought out the tray, the billowy tops beckoning one to try the soft meringuey marshmallow inside, as well as the tart lemon curd underneath.
“I’m going to put one away for Mitch,” she said. And one for herself.
“Make that two for me,” Zoe requested. “Chris loves these as well.” After a moment, Zoe added, “What about one for Ed? Maybe that will get him to spill about his conversation with Martha yesterday.”
“That reminds me.” She placed two goodies in one box, and two in another. “Ed would like to know if Martha comes in today.”
“Ooh – is it about Martha’s secret?”
“I think so.” She didn’t know what else it could be.
After placing a lemon meringue in a bag for Ed, she took it into the kitchen. He thanked her gruffly, immediately returning his attention to his pastry-making.
When they opened on the dot of nine-thirty, Brooke was their first customer.
“Hi, guys.” Today, Brooke wore black jeans and a blue sweater. “I can’t stop long.” She smiled down at Annie, who’d scampered to greet her, “But I think I need a large latte to start my morning. I have appointments booked all day.”
“Awesome!” Zoe grinned.
“I started getting phone calls on Monday, from women who’d admired their friends’ hair at the premiere.”
“That’s great.” Lauren began steaming milk.
“Brrt!”
“So these are the flowers Tara and Penny sent you.” Brooke admired the slightly wilting blooms.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do when they die,” Zoe said. “I love looking at them all day.”
“I think our customers do, too,” Lauren added.
“Brrt!”
They all giggled, then Lauren finished off the latte with a peacock design. The advanced latte art course they took a while ago had really paid off.
“It’s a shame to cover up your beautiful design,” Brooke commented when Lauren snapped on the lid. “I just wish I had time to sit and chat with you for a while, but I have to run to the salon.”
“Stop by if you do have time this week,” Lauren said.
“I will!”
Hans came in next. Annie trotted to greet him.
“Hello Liebchen. Where shall I sit, hmm?”
“Hi, Hans,” Zoe called out, plating a red velvet.
“Hello, Zoe, and Lauren.” His faded blue eyes twinkled as he followed Annie to a four-seater near the counter.
“What can I get you?” Lauren hurried over. On the laminated menus, customers were asked to order at the counter, but they relaxed this rule for the elderly, infirm, or just plain harried.
“A cappuccino and one of your lemon meringue cupcakes, please,” he requested.
“Brrt.” Annie sounded approving. She jumped onto the pine chair next to him.
“Did you enjoy my – the – movie on Saturday night?” Zoe zoomed over.
“Ach, yes I did,” he replied, smiling. “You certainly have an imagination, Zoe.”
“Thanks!” Zoe’s brown eyes sparkled.
“Are you going to write another?” he asked.
“Well, I haven’t decided yet. I’m having a little break right now. If I do write another movie script, it might be an idea I’ve come up with all on my own.”
“I understand.” He nodded. “Ach, yes, on Saturday evening you mentioned your new mugs featured Annie. May I see one?”
“Of course.” Zoe zipped to the counter and zipped back. “Here you go.”
“It is very beautiful, because it has you, Liebchen, on it.” Hans pointed out Annie’s sketch on the mug to her. “And it was made by Zoe.”
“Brrt,” Annie agreed.
Lauren stifled a smile.
“Please add this to my bill.” Hans gestured to the mug.
“Awesome!” Zoe beamed.
Lauren made the cappuccino while Zoe plated the cupcake. When they brought his order out to him, he said, “I trust you have heard about the murder of the TV reporter?”
“We found him,” Lauren replied soberly.
“I did not know that. Everyone was talking about it at the senior center yesterday.”
“Mitch is in charge of the case,” Zoe added.
“That is good. I am sure he will solve it.”
“And if he doesn’t, we will!” Zoe grinned.
“You will be careful, won’t you?” He looked worried.
“Of course.” Lauren nodded. “And I’m sure Mitch will solve the case quickly. He’s already interviewing people.” She didn’t like to think of Thelma as a suspect, although she’d already been questioned.
More customers trickled in. Annie divided her time between Hans’s table and seating the newcomers.
When Mrs. Finch tapped her way into the café, wearing an olive skirt and matching blouse, Annie ran to greet her.
“Hello, Annie, dear.” Mrs. Finch smiled down at the silver-gray tabby.
“Hi, Mrs. Finch,” Zoe called from behind the counter.
“How are you?” Lauren asked.
“I’m fine, Lauren, dear. The doctor says I must try to walk when I can, and I fancied one of your lovely lattes and a cupcake this morning.”
“Lemon meringue,” Zoe advised.
“That sounds perfect.”
Annie led Mrs. Finch to the same table Hans had occupied.
When they brought her order over, she asked, “Do you have any news about ...” she lowered her voice “... that poor TV reporter?”
“No,” Lauren said.
“Well sort of.” Zoe glanced at her.
“Mitch has the film that Nathan’s cameraman took on Saturday night.” She remembered something Mitch had told her early that morning, before he’d gone to work. “He’s also requested the photos Jill took of the premiere.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” Zoe protested.
“I was trying to think up a new creation and it slipped my mind,” she replied.
“How is your new cupcake coming along?” Mrs. Finch asked.
“It’s not,” she replied gloomily. “I was trying to be creative this morning, but I ran out of time.” She glanced sideways at Zoe.
“Oh – is that when I barged into your kitchen?”
“Brrt!” Yes!
“Sorry.” Zoe did sound sorry. “You know I love your cupcakes – they’re the best!”
“Thanks.” She smiled at her cousin.
“You know what I’ve had a hankering for lately?” Mrs. Finch mused. “Butterscotch. Good old-fashioned butterscotch candies.”
“Yum.” Zoe’s eyes lit up. “Now I’m getting a craving for them!”
They all laughed, but Mrs. Finch’s comment gave Lauren an idea. She scribbled something on the small order pad in her pocket. Maybe she’d have time tonight for some cupcake musing.
“It seems a shame to break up this lovely peacock design.” Mrs. Finch stirred her coffee with a wobbly hand.
They chatted to her for a few minutes, then Martha barreled into the café.
“Brrt!” Annie looked apologetically at Mrs. Finch, and scampered over to Martha, jumping onto the black vinyl padded seat of her walker.
“Hi, cutie pie.” Martha winked at her. Today she wore turquoise sweatpants and a matching sweater.
“Ed would like to talk to you.” Lauren remembered her pastry chef’s request.
“Oh good, because I want to talk to him!” Martha pushed her walker around the counter and poked her head through the swinging kitchen door. Annie continued to sit on the walker seat. “Ed?”
“How did it go yesterday?” Ed asked in a low voice.
Zoe inched toward the commercial kitchen, but Lauren shooed her away.
“We shouldn’t try to eavesdrop.”
“When has that stopped us before?” Zoe joked, then sobered. “You’re right. I just wish I knew what they were saying.”
“I’m sure Martha will tell us when she’s ready.”
“I bet Annie knows.” Zoe swiveled, glancing at Annie on the walker. “I wish I could speak cat.”
“Me too.” Although sometimes she was sure she knew what her fur baby was saying.
“You betcha!” Martha finished the conversation and wheeled herself and Annie away, looking mysterious once more.
Annie directed her to Mrs. Finch’s table.
“Oh, good,” Zoe said in satisfaction. “They’re sitting together. Maybe now Martha will tell us what’s going on.”
Before she could stop her cousin, Zoe zipped over to the table.
“Gimme a hot chocolate – no, my marshmallow latte – no, a hot chocolate. With plenty of marshmallows,” Martha requested. “And one of Ed’s apple Danishes.”
Annie hopped off the walker and onto the chair next to Mrs. Finch.
The two ladies chatted while Lauren and Zoe filled the new order.
They brought the treats over to the table.
“I was just saying to Martha that you’re busy thinking up a new cupcake.” Mrs. Finch’s eyes twinkled behind her delicate pink spectacles.
“Can’t wait.” Martha dived into her Danish first, then peered at the hot chocolate, the cocoa froth swirled with melting pink and white mini marshmallows. “Lots of marshmallows – goody.”
“I’m hoping to,” Lauren replied.
“Got any updates on the murder?” Martha demanded, after enjoying a big spoonful of hot chocolate froth.
“Not really.” She looked at Zoe.
“Only that Mitch is going through footage of Saturday night,” Zoe added.
“Good.” Martha nodded. “That means we don’t have to do that. Now, what should our next move be?”
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Finch leaned back in her chair. “I’m sure Mitch will solve the case very soon.”
“But it’s fun to snoop around.” Martha grinned. “Isn’t it, Annie?”
“Brrt!” Yes!
“Unless you saw someone sneak out of the town hall around the time of the murder, I don’t know—”
“But I did see someone!” Martha’s eyes lit up. “I saw Donald!”
“He went outside?” Zoe pressed.
“Well, no,” Martha amended. “Not exactly. But I saw him go down the hallway that leads to the bathroom.”
“That’s not exactly the same thing as going outside where Nathan was,” Lauren tried to explain tactfully.
“But didn’t Donald say he was inside the town hall the whole time?” Zoe tapped her cheek.
“I think he did,” Lauren said slowly.
“So he either lied to us – and Mitch – or else going to the bathroom doesn’t seem to count.”
“I’ll tell Mitch.” Lauren pulled her phone out of her jeans’ pocket and texted him a short message. Her device buzzed a few minutes later with one word: Thanks.
“I bet he’s going to grill Donald,” Zoe said in satisfaction.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Lauren defended Mitch – or was she feeling a little sorry for Donald? “Mitch will probably just ask him if he did go to the bathroom that night or anywhere else.”
“I can’t wait to hear Donald’s answer!”