Murder is a Piece of Cake (A Baker Street Mystery Book 2)

By the time we finished, I was sweating, tired, and angry. I turned toward Clayton Davenport. “If you’re completely incapable of controlling your mouth, then you can turn around and leave.”

Based on the purple color that rose up his neck and the vein that pulsed on the side of his head, Clayton Jefferson Davenport wasn’t accustomed to being yelled at.

“Me? You’re blaming me for that . . . that beast nearly ripping my throat out? You’re crazy. You’re all crazy. This whole town is full of crazy people. I should have known. When I heard you were selling baked goods from a garage on the side of the road and that people were actually buying them, I should have known. Where’s the health department in this town? That has to violate a dozen health codes. Why don’t you post that online, #HealthCode Violations.”

I was so busy trying not to strangle Clayton Davenport I didn’t realize the danger until it was almost too late. Just as I was about to provide a scathing response, I was knocked aside.

Hannah lifted her hand, which was clutching a marble rolling pin. “Now, you listen here. Don’t you go spreading no lies about Baby Cakes being a problem with the health department.”

Leroy came back from settling Baby, just in time to tackle Hannah from behind while April moved in front to block any blows she might land.

“You call yourself a sheriff?” Davenport said. “What kind of town is this? She tried to assault me. I want her arrested. I want both of them arrested.”

April whirled around so she was mere inches from him. “This was a great town until you arrived. You provoked her. You provoked both of them. It’s what you do. I almost wish I’d let her hit you.”

“Crazy. Everyone in this town is batty.”

“You’re welcome to leave at any time,” I said. “And for the record, in this state, the Cottage Law allows people to make and sell specific foods in their home without being subject to inspections or purchasing a food license. However, my great-aunt Octavia made sure that her home, which has a commercial kitchen, meets all the same stringent requirements as our bakery.”

“And the detached structure at the front of the property was renovated and is très chic,” Candy said.

He gave Candy the You poor, pitiful thing look.

“Candy’s right,” I said. “Plus, Southwest Michigan is well-known for our roadside stands with fruits, vegetables . . . oh, and baked goods, but like I said, you’re welcome to leave at any time.” I stopped short of snapping my fingers and adding a neck roll, but I was so tempted.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Clayton Davenport’s nostrils flared. “Well, no one tells me what to do. No one. I’m not going anywhere. In fact, thanks to you and Cujo up there, I’ve had a change of plans. I’m going to own not only that coffee shop and the bookstore, but I’m going to own this two-bit bakery and this entire town before this week is over. I was going to wait for this, but . . . you brought it on yourself.” Like the big, bad wolf in “The Three Little Pigs,” he huffed, and he puffed. He pulled out his cell phone, turned, and marched out of the store.

He took most of the oxygen with him when he left, and I felt light-headed. Down from my adrenaline high, I stumbled into a chair and collapsed. The blood was rushing in my ears, and I couldn’t hear anything except the pulsing of my heart pumping.

“Maddy! Are you okay?” April shook my shoulders.

“Here, let me.” Candy tossed what was left of her water in my face.

“What the—” I sputtered.

“I’m sorry,” Candy said. “I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

Leroy handed me a dishcloth from behind the counter, and I patted my face dry.

April turned and noticed that some of the gawkers from earlier had slipped inside with the rest of us and were lingering.

“Okay, the show’s over.” April shooed nonessentials from the building. Before closing the door, she glanced up and saw Chris Russell, one of New Bison’s city council members and my attorney, outside standing near the table with the thumbprint cookies I’d been cutting earlier. “Mr. Russell, would you mind stepping in here for a moment?”

The attorney entered, and April closed the door behind him.

Chris Russell was as ordinary as ordinary could be. He was medium height, average weight, balding with glasses. Yet, there was an occasional look that flashed across his face that indicated that he was deeper than he appeared at first glance. Like Transformers, there was more to him than meets the eye.

He glanced around. “What’s all this about?”

We filled him in.

Chris Russell turned to face the woman who was plastered up against the back wall of the bakery. “You’re claiming to have been married to Paul Rivers? May I ask what’s your name?”

She had been so still and quiet, I forgot she was there.

“She claims to be Marjorie Rivers,” Hannah said. “Marjorie was the slimeball’s first wife who ran off and left him, but I can’t swear to it.”

Marjorie Rivers stepped forward. “It’s been a long time. I’ve changed some over the years. I guess, we all have. I—”

The door to the bakery flew open, and Clayton Davenport stood in the doorway. “Marjorie, come!”

Marjorie Rivers hung her head like a puppy and hurried out the door.

Davenport pivoted and let the door slam closed behind him.

I went to the door and twisted the lock. If Davenport entered Baby Cakes Bakery again, he’d have to break in, and I’d gladly let Baby take his pound of flesh.

“What about the sidewalk sale?” Leroy asked.

“Whatever cookies are outside, people are welcome to them. I—”

Suddenly, there was a loud crash. An amplifier squealed, causing my teeth to rattle. Then, a voice boomed over a loudspeaker.

“HI, NEW BISON! THIS IS CHLOE, AND I WANT TO WELCOME YOU TO NEW BISON’S NEWEST PASTRY SHOP. LET’S ROCK OUT!”

Throngs of people ran down Main Street.

Everyone came to the front door and looked out.

“OMG!” Candy said. “That’s Chloe!”

“Who’s Chloe?” Hannah asked.

“Chloe. The number-one pop singer in the world. She’s won every award possible this year. Best Artist. Best Album. Best Contemporary Album. Pretty much everything.”

“Hmm. Never heard of her.”

“OMG! You haven’t heard ‘Love Is a Four-Letter Word’? Or ‘Let Your Fingers Do the Talking’? Or, my personal favorite, ‘I’m Your Boo, But He’s Mine.’ ” Candy started to sing the lyrics, and Hannah stared at her as though she’d suddenly lost her mind.

The music was so loud it shook the glass in the front of the store, and while I liked Chloe’s music and several of her songs were on my playlist, I wasn’t a fan when it was blasting at a deafening pitch through my building so loudly that the items on the shelves vibrated.

“This is violating the noise ordinance,” April said. She unlocked the door and marched toward the noise.

Candy was jumping up and down. “OMG! I love Chloe!”

Leroy looked out. “Are those jugglers?”

I followed his gaze. Sure enough, Clayton Davenport had not only hired the top singing sensation in the country, he’d hired clowns, stilt-walkers, jugglers, and . . . “Are those fire-eaters?”

Leroy nodded. “Looks like it.”

“There’s no way he could have arranged all of this that quickly. He must have been planning this all along. He’s been planning this—”

“Long before you made that bet.”

“But how could he have known? How could he know that if he pushed me, I’d get impulsive and make some crazy, irrational bet without thinking it through like . . .” I stared at Leroy.

“Like chucking everything, picking up and moving to New Bison after your fiancé left you at the altar in the middle of your live-streamed wedding?” He held up his phone and gave it a shake.

“Ugh.” I smacked my hand against my head.

“I don’t know anything about Clayton Davenport, but he strikes me as a man who would definitely do his homework.” Leroy folded his arms across his chest. “He certainly didn’t get as rich as he is by flying by the seat of his pants.”

Suddenly there was silence. April must have pulled the plug on the street concert. However, the crowd wasn’t having it and immediately started booing and heckling her. After what appeared to be a heated discussion, the music continued but at a much less eardrum-rupturing level.

The crowd roared, and I swallowed hard to keep from puking.

“We might as well pack up and go home,” I said, and opened the door. Leroy and I pulled all of the items I’d set up back inside. I turned the sign to CLOSED.

I opened the door to the upstairs, and Baby came bounding down. He trotted around the store as though he was looking for Clayton Davenport, and then he came and sat by my side.

“It’s okay,” I said. “The bad man is gone.”

Baby sighed.

I jiggled his jowls. “Don’t you worry about that bad man. I’ll take care of him, one way or another.”

Baby stood up on his hind legs and gave my face a lick.

“Now, let’s go home and get some ice cream.”

Baby barked and headed to the back door.

“I’m exhausted. Baby and I are going home.”

Chris Russell gave a discreet cough. “I’ll look into the claims that Paul Rivers never divorced his first wife. If they’re true, then . . . well, we’ll deal with that bridge when we get to it.” He patted Candy on the back. “Don’t you worry.”

“Would you like a ride to your mom’s place?” I asked. Candy’s parents lived near me, and now that April had boarded up the building, I assumed she’d move back with her parents.

“No. I think I need something to cheer me up. I’m going to listen to Chloe.” She hurried outside and headed toward the spectacle.

Leroy looked at Hannah. “Would you like me to drive you home?”

But Hannah wasn’t there. She’d checked out. Physically, her body was there, but her eyes were blank.

She smiled. “That would be nice, but who are you?”

“My name’s Leroy. Come with me, Miss Hannah, and I’ll drive you home.”

“Such a nice young man.” Hannah smiled again and followed him out to his car.

Chris Russell dropped his portfolio, and papers flew across the floor. I turned to help him pick them up, but he stopped me. “Please, I know you’re tired. I’ll just grab the rest of these papers and let myself out. It’ll just take a couple of minutes. You go on.”

I hesitated a half second but decided he didn’t need me, and I needed to go home and regroup. “Okay, well, the door is locked, just pull it closed on your way out.”

Baby and I went home. Normally, the peace and quiet were soothing. There was something about knowing this was my home that made me feel like I was wrapped in love. The bedroom that great-aunt Octavia converted into a library with stunning views of Lake Michigan usually made me feel warm and safe, but tonight it merely made me sad. I couldn’t stop thinking that I might lose everything if Clayton Davenport got his way. And, something told me that Clayton Davenport always got his way. After a few hours of fidgeting and pacing, I knew I needed to get away. I packed up Baby, got back in the car, and drove back downtown. I parked in my usual spot behind Baby Cakes Bakery and got out and walked.

One of the things I’d learned to appreciate about living in New Bison was its smallness. At night, you could walk the entire downtown area in minutes and never see anyone. L.A. was sprawled out and required a ride in the car. New York City was very walkable, but the “City That Never Sleeps” was densely populated, and finding a place of solitude was a challenge. Once you found it, the lack of people brought on a feeling of anxiety. At least it did for me. New Bison was different. I didn’t feel afraid walking the streets alone any time of the day or night. Of course, that might have something to do with the guard dog that accompanied me on my midnight strolls. Baby was large and intimidating when he wasn’t rolling on his back being a goofball.

I was antsy, so I walked the streets in an effort to clear my head. Thankfully, the concert was over and the streets were quiet. The downtown had old-fashioned streetlights that gave the area the look of London in the late nineteenth century. New Bison was a resort town, but there weren’t a large number of hotels. The few that existed were closer to the casino or Lake Michigan and the marina. However, there was one large older home that resembled a castle, located near the town square. The Carson Law Inn was built by New Bison’s oil tycoon, Beauregard Law. After Law’s death, his only daughter, Carson Law, lived in the mansion and raised her family. Carson Law was known for her philanthropy with causes affecting children and animals. She was also known for her passion for haute couture. Her love for women’s hats led her to turn her home into an inn so that she could move to Paris to pursue her millinery aspirations. In honor of Ms. Law, the inn sponsored an annual tea to raise money for the humane society each summer. I was looking forward to attending my first tea in just a few short months. The best part was that well-behaved dogs were welcome, so Baby and I had already reserved our table.

My circuit around New Bison took me near the Carson Law Inn, and I wasn’t surprised to see a limo parked outside. It was the nicest hotel in town. Where else would a man like Clayton Davenport, who was accustomed to the best, choose to stay while in town? I rejected the urge to pick up a brick and smash the limo’s window. It was a petty thought. Besides, the Carson Law Inn probably had security cameras, and the last thing April needed was to have to arrest her friend and landlord.

I walked quickly past the inn, but my thoughts lingered on Clayton Davenport. He was a pain in the butt, and he was probably going to end up owning not only Baby Cakes Bakery but my house and . . . I turned and glanced at Baby. Of course, I’d try to buy Baby from him, but Clayton Davenport would probably have him put down out of spite. I wiped away a tear.

I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of Baby. #CuddleBugByDay #GuardDogByNight #LoveMyMastiff

I posted the picture and almost instantly felt my phone vibrate. Michael’s picture popped on the screen. I took a deep breath and braced myself for the lecture I knew was coming.

“Please tell me you aren’t walking alone in the middle of the night,” Michael said.

“I’m not alone. I’ve got a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound protector.”

“Maddy, I know you think New Bison is a sleepy little town where nothing bad ever happens, but you’re wrong. Crime happens everywhere. Just because . . .”

I zoned out the rest of the lecture. I’d heard it before. It didn’t help that he was right. Crime wasn’t the domain of big cities. Small towns had it too.

He took a breath, and I interjected. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just needed a walk to clear my head. I’m only walking downtown where there are streetlights. I have Baby, and I have the taser April gave me.” I pulled the small object from my pocket. I always keep it in my pocket.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to lecture you, but I worry about you. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,” There was a softness in his voice that brought a smile to my face.

“Really, now why is that?”

“I don’t want to be the one to have to tell the Admiral what happened to his only daughter.” He chuckled.

I disconnected the call.

He was still laughing when he called back. He spent a few moments telling me the real reason he wouldn’t want anything to happen to me. Despite the cool breeze coming off Lake Michigan, I felt heat rising inside that made me unwrap the scarf I’d draped around my neck.

“Maybe I need to come downtown and relieve Baby from his guard duty.”

“That sounds nice, but I know you have a busy day tomorrow. Don’t you have two surgeries? You better get your rest. Besides, we’re on for dinner tomorrow.”

We spent the next few minutes talking about how much we were both looking forward to tomorrow night. It was just a short distance from the Carson Law Inn to Baby Cakes. Actually, downtown was small, so it was a short distance from practically anywhere in New Bison. By the time we were winding down, I was back at Baby Cakes and getting in my car.