Sugar and Scandals Page 10
Dan went on to explain how Mr. Hines had suffered a broken nose after falling four or five times on his face. That was before he got in one lucky punch.
“If he hadn’t had that goon with him, I would have had a lot more to say to that Mr. Hines, I can tell you that.”
Amelia wiped her eyes.
“Mr. Lee is like a giant balloon. He looks big and intimidating, but he’s nothing but a bag of hot air. He was caught by Officer Schroder. He acted tough, all right. But as soon as we had them cuffed and in the interrogation room, I started on them one by one. I already knew from listening in on your call that they’d killed Spencer, so I played them against each other. Each one said the other did it to try to save his own skin.”
Dan started to laugh. It was one of those rare occasions that Amelia loved, like spotting a cardinal after the first snow or maybe seeing a UFO.
“Thanks to you, we got them both.” He smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead.
“Did you see what he did to my oven?” Amelia said.
“Yes. I’m afraid that we won’t be able to recover any money from him to pay for the damages.”
“That’s what insurance is for.” Amelia wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t tell Meg anything about it. The less she knows the better.”
“I agree,” Dan said as they walked in. “But I’m afraid you and I are going to have to have a serious talk.”
Amelia let out a deep breath.
“I know. I should have told you about going to the pawn shop. It was just that it was staring right at me, and I thought hey, maybe the person who took the watch tried to pawn it. Truthfully, I was thinking that it was a hobo or maybe some junkie who would have brought it in. I never would have suspected all this drama.”
“Now you know.” He sat her down at the kitchen table and took the seat next to her. “Look, you are almost as good at sleuthing as you are at baking. And after that soup I made for you, I think I might be as good at baking as I am at sleuthing.”
“What?”
“But there isn’t room for both of us to be doing both. For a while, I suggest you focus on your baking, and I’ll focus on sleuthing.”
“That’s a fair plan.”
She leaned forward and kissed him.
The next day, it was all over the newspapers that Brewster Lee and Sampson Hines had been arrested in connection with the murder of Spencer Randall.
Amelia felt she had one loose end to tie up. With a box full of peanut-butter-and-jelly cupcakes wrapped up as pretty as could be in her signature pink boxes, Amelia drove her beat-up sedan to the wrought iron gate of Florence Carmichael’s home.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to press the buzzer and speak through the intercom. Florence came walking out of the gate wearing a blue-and-white jogging suit with matching Nikes. Before she stuck in her earbuds, Amelia tapped the horn.
Florence’s expression said it all.
“I know,” Amelia started. She left her car running after she had pulled it over and put it in park. “You have every right to be mad at me.”
“Well, let’s see, you accuse me of murder. Yes, I think that warrants a serious dislike.”
“I’m sorry.” Amelia put her hands up in the surrender pose. “I thought I knew what I was talking about, but I didn’t. I was wrong.”
Florence straightened her back and tilted her head as if she had heard something high pitched.
“I brought you a peace offering.” Amelia reached through her open window and grabbed the box. “These are my best sellers. I know you are into eating healthy and exercising and stuff, but I thought if you ever wanted a treat, if you had a craving for something sweet, you might like these.”
She handed Florence the box.
“I’m not supposed to tell anyone this because they might not come back to the truck, but these freeze really well.” Amelia smiled.
“Thanks,” Florence said.
“Maybe you could even invite Candace Rosenbaum over to enjoy one.”
“Did she put you up to this?”
“No, Florence. But if you guys were friends, maybe you could be friends again.” Amelia watched as Florence looked at her as if she were sprouting a third eye in the middle of her forehead. “Or not. You know, what do I know.”
She got back in her car and pulled away slowly, waving to Florence and feeling happy she waved back.
Amelia had one more errand to run before she headed to Food Truck Alley. With the extra money she had, there was a jacket that Meg had wanted. She decided to pick it up for her. It was hot pink, of course, and there was a cute little purse that matched. Amelia got them both. And so the man of the house didn’t feel left out, Amelia went to Adam’s favorite skateboard place. She walked in, took a look around, and had no idea what Adam might want or need.
“You sell gift cards, right?”
With her treasures in hand, she left and strolled down the sidewalk, thinking that maybe she should pick something up for Dan, too.
Stopping in front of a novelty store, she saw a coffee mug that said Police Do It By the Book and was tempted to buy it. It was corny, but how hilarious would it be that the stone-faced Detective Walishovski could be found in his office sipping his coffee from that mug?
Amelia had started to laugh at the image in her mind when she saw the reflection of a man behind her.
She had forgotten that his office was not far from here. What was he doing hustling around during work hours?
Maybe the same thing you are, Amelia. Do you have to be so suspicious of everyone? she scolded herself. No. Not everyone. Just John.
As she watched him, he looked around and ducked into a small but expensive French restaurant. It was one of those places open for an expensive breakfast of crepes or croissants or French toast.
Before Amelia could stop herself, she was crossing the street and pretending to study the menu as she peered inside. He wasn’t anywhere near the window.
“Of course he isn’t,” she muttered quietly. “Everyone knows when you are cheating on your spouse, you sit in the back. How many times had he met Jennifer in this place when he was cheating on me?”
That was it. She decided to go in and see what he was doing. One affair was bad enough, but two was just plain tacky. A man who did this needed help.
Amelia looked around. She told the hostess she was looking for someone. She carefully slunk around the hostess station and saw John.
He was sitting with a woman. A very big, pregnant woman who was smiling and laughing.
Amelia felt something pierce through her heart. Part of her would have liked the scandal of catching John again. But this was better. John and Jennifer looked happy.
As strange as it seemed, that made Amelia happy, too.
As you wait for book 9 in the Pink Cupcake Mysteries, read Harper’s new series, Secret Agent Granny.
In book 1, Granny’s Got a Gun, Barbara Gold, a retired CIA agent, is bored out of her skull in Cheerville, a small town in New England—until a man is poisoned during a book club meeting for seniors. Everyone thinks Lucien had a heart attack, but from his symptoms, Barbara knows someone has slipped poisoned into his cake or drink. Even though she is no longer under cover, Barbara feels as if she’s only playing the part of a sweet grandmother, but this may just be her most useful cover yet.
The clock ticks as she investigates who in the Cheerville Active Readers’ Society would want Lucien dead. It’s only a matter of time before his death is declared murder and the police start hounding everyone.
Suddenly Barbara’s CIA training is useful again, and Cheerville is starting to seem not so dull after all…
Read an excerpt at the end of this book.
Catch up on all the books in the Pink Cupcake series here.
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Recipe 1: Champagne Cupcakes
Makes 12
* * *
For Cupcake:
1 1
/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1 whole egg + 1 egg white
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1/2 cup champagne
* * *
Frosting:
1/2 cup butter, softened
1/3 cup vegetable shortening
1⁄2 tsp. vanilla
3 1/2 cups confectioner’s sugar
2 Tbsp milk
1⁄2 tsp. lemon rind (finely chopped)
Almond extract
Optional: tiny champagne grapes
* * *
Preheat oven to 350°F. Line 12 muffin tins with cupcake liners. Whisk flour, baking powder and salt in one bowl.
Using an electric mixer, beat sugar and butter together on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, for up to 3 minutes. Reduce the speed to low, add the egg and egg white one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the vanilla.
Alternate adding flour mixture and champagne. Beat until just combined. Don’t overheat.
Fill cupcake liners to 3/4 full. Bake for 15 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.
* * *
For frosting: In a bowl, mix softened butter with vegetable shortening, vanilla and lemon rind. Slowly add the confectioner’s sugar.
If the icing turns too thick, add 10 to 20 drops of milk. Mix as long as possible to make the icing light and fluffy. Add a few drops of almond extract and mix well.
Frost cool cupcakes. Optional: add tiny champagne grapes on top.
Recipe 2: Beatrice’s Mojito Cupcakes
Makes 12
* * *
Cupcakes:
1 1/2 cups cake flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup white granulated sugar
1 egg + 1 egg white
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 tablespoon freshly grated lemon zest
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon pure lemon extract
1/2 cup whole milk
* * *
Mojito Frosting:
1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 cup cream cheese, room temperature
2 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 tsp. freshly grated lime zest
2 teaspoons rum
Optional: use fresh mint leaves, sliced lime, or more grated lime zest as garnish.
* * *
Preheat oven to 350°F. Line 12 muffin tins with cupcake liners. Whisk flour, baking powder, and salt in a bowl.
With an electric stand mixer or hand whisk, beat butter until creamy. Add the sugar and beat a few minutes or until light and fluffy. Add the egg and egg white, beating on medium speed, until combined. Add the oil, lemon zest, vanilla, and lemon extract and beat for 1 to 2 minutes or until combined.
Pour in the milk while mixing. Pour in the rest of the dry ingredients and mix on medium speed until the batter is combined.
Fill cupcake liners 3/4 full. Bake for 16 to 18 minutes, or until golden on top. Let cool before frosting.
For frosting:
Beat softened butter and cream cheese until creamy. With the mixer on low speed, gradually add the powdered sugar. Increase the speed of the mixer and until fluffy and combined. Beat in the vanilla, lime zest, and rum.
Frost the cupcakes and garnish with desired garnish.
About the Author
Harper Lin is the USA TODAY bestselling author of 6 cozy mystery series including The Patisserie Mysteries and The Cape Bay Cafe Mysteries.
When she's not reading or writing mysteries, she loves going to yoga classes, hiking, and hanging out with her family and friends.
For a complete list of her books by series, see her website. Follow Harper on social media using the icons below for the latest insider news.
www.HarperLin.com
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A Note From Harper
Thank you so much for reading Sugar and Scandals. If you were entertained by this Pink Cupcake mystery, please recommend it to friends and family who would enjoy it too. I would also really appreciate it if you could write a book review to help spread the word.
You might also enjoy my other dessert cozy mystery series:
• The Cape Bay Cafe Mysteries: When Fran moves back to her idyllic beach town to take over the family café, she also develops a knack for solving bizarre murders. Each book includes special recipes.
• The Patisserie Mysteries: An heiress to a famous French patisserie chain takes over the family business, while using her status as a Parisian socialite to solve murders in high society. Each book includes French dessert recipes.
• The Emma Wild Mysteries: a 4-Book holiday cozy series about a famous singer returning to her small Canadian town.
I also have 2 other fun mystery series:
• Secret Agent Granny: 70-year-old Barbara is a sweet grandmother—and a badass ex-CIA agent.
• The Wonder Cats Mysteries: three witches and their magical cats solve paranormal murder cases in the mystical town of Wonder Falls.
If you want to be the first to hear about new book releases and early bird specials, sign up for my mailing list.
I’m also on Facebook, where I’ll be holding giveaways, sharing recipes, and posting about what I’m reading at the moment.
Follow my Pinterest boards to see the locations and inspirations behind each book.
You can also connect with me on Goodreads.
If you’d like to get in touch with me directly, you can email me at harperlinauthor@outlook.com. I would love to hear what you think about the books. Do also drop me a note if you happen to catch any mistakes. While each book is edited and proofread by professionals, errors can still slip through sometimes. As an indie writer, I want to provide readers with the smoothest read possible.
Last but not least, visit my website for my blog and a complete list of all my books, organized by series.
Thanks and much love,
Harper
Excerpt from “Granny’s Got a Gun”
I was at the weekly meeting of the Cheerville Active Readers’ Society, the closest thing to pass for entertainment in this sleepy little New England town. I found myself living here after I retired from the CIA.
I’m Barbara Gold. Age: 70. Height: five feet, five inches. Eyes: blue. Hair: gray. Weight: none of your business. Specialties: undercover surveillance, small arms, chemical weapons, Middle East and Latin American politics. Current status: retired widow and grandmother.
Addendum to current status: bored out of my skull.
Like my retirement, forced down my throat by the government three years before, the book selection for that month was not going down well.
Endless Beach was a classic romance novel from 1912 that had recently been reissued as part of a major publisher’s “Forgotten Female Authors” series. It should have remained forgotten.
An obvious Jane Austen knockoff, written in an era when a wee bit more physical contact was permitted (Kissing! Gasp!) but lingering Victorian morals ensured a tepid read, it came off as old fashioned even in a reading group in which the youngest member was sixty-five, reading glasses were universal, and wrinkles had long stopped being a source of worry. Despite the story being a snore, it had managed to enthrall most members of the reading group, although for different reasons.
The seven members sat around the coffee table in Lucien and Gretchen Rogers’s living room, a circle of gray hair, wrinkles, and persistent aches and pains. Gretchen’s prize-winning lemon cake sat on the table, with only one piece left.
I stared at the cake with annoyance. As usual, Gretchen had used some delicious icing to write her favorite l
ine from that week’s reading assignment. This week it said: Like the sand on the beach, our love is renewed with every crashing wave. That corny line, which didn’t make all that much sense, epitomized both the novel and Gretchen. A bit corny, a bit nonsensical, so it came as no surprise that it stuck out to her, a beach-obsessed hopeless romantic.
She and her husband, Lucien, had both turned sixty-five that year, and while Lucien had settled into placid retirement, Gretchen was going through something of a late midlife crisis or a really late puberty. She dreamed of being whisked away by a handsome stranger to some gorgeous beach somewhere. Their house was adorned with photos of the Bahamas, the Seychelles, the Maldives, and other exotic locales, all taken by someone else. As far as I could tell, the couple had never been farther than Maine.
Gretchen, as usual, had cut the cake into eight pieces. Why she did this, I could never figure out, because that last slice of cake always ended up sitting on the plate for the rest of the meeting. No one ever took it. Not that anyone was watching their figures too closely at this late stage of life; it was simply that taking a second piece would be rude, and rudeness was something that just wasn’t done in Cheerville. You wouldn’t want to irritate anyone, after all.
But that extra piece irritated me almost more than I could bear. I hadn’t made it through a Cold War and several hot ones by being sloppy and wasteful, and leaving an extra piece no one had the gumption to eat was the epitome of sloppy and wasteful.
So I frowned at it again. The icing spelling out the words “crashing wave,” the only words left, seemed to mock me. In a few minutes, Lucien would clear the table and toss out the spare piece.