Buttercream Bump Off

Table of Contents

 

 

“A tender cozy full of warm and likable characters and a refreshingly sympathetic murder victim. Readers will look forward to more of McKinlay’s tasty concoctions.”

—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

 

“McKinlay’s debut mystery flows as smoothly as Melanie Cooper’s buttercream frosting. Her characters are delicious, and the dash of romance is just the icing on the cake.”

—Sheila Connolly, author of
Red Delicious Death

 

“Jenn McKinlay delivers all the ingredients for a winning read. Frost me another!”

—Cleo Coyle, national bestselling author of the Coffeehouse Mysteries

 

“A delicious new series featuring a spirited heroine, luscious cupcakes, and a clever murder. Jenn McKinlay has baked a sweet read.”

—Krista Davis, author of the Domestic Diva Mysteries

 

SPRINKLE WITH MURDER
BUTTERCREAM BUMP OFF

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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

 

BUTTERCREAM BUMP OFF

 

A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY

Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / January 2011

Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer McKinlay Orf.

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

eISBN: 9781101480892

 

BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

 

 

For the Hub, Chris Hansen Orf.

To quote your own song back to you: “I’ll still love you when I’m dust and bone.”

For the love of cupcakes! I want to acknowledge all of the wonderful readers who have taken Mel, Angie, and Tate into their hearts. I am just delighted that so many of you “get it”! It’s been such a pleasure hearing from you all. Special thanks to Mat Matazzoni for entering and winning the “Name the Cupcake” contest. You’re in these pages somewhere—have fun finding you!

As always, a special thanks to the dudes, Beckett and Wyatt. Thanks for your help in the kitchen as we experiment with our cupcake recipes and for making me laugh, especially when we suffer cupcake fail.

Thanks to my families, the McKinlays and the Orfs, for your constant encouragement. It means more than I can ever say.

Props to Jessica Faust, agent extraordinaire; Kate Seaver, the ultimate editor; Katherine Pelz, the gifted assistant editor; Andy Ball, the brilliant copyeditor; and Megan Swartz, PR whiz. I could never manage any of this without all of you.

And here’s a shout-out to all of my pals in the kitchen (my fellow bloggers at the Mystery Lover’s Kitchen) and my writer pals, the ladies of the loop. Also, thanks to my dear, dear friends for coming to the signings, buying the books, and for enjoying this e-ticket ride almost as much as I do! Love you all!

“You need to get to the corner of Fifth Avenue and Scottsdale Road. Now.”

“Angie?” Melanie Cooper barely recognized her business partner’s voice through her sleep-induced haze. “What’s going on?”

“Fifth and Scottsdale,” Angie DeLaura repeated. The phone went dead.

Mel glanced at the cell phone in her hand then at her alarm clock, which read 6:57. A phone call this early in the morning had better mean Angie’s car had been stolen or was on fire.

She heaved off her comforter and rolled out of bed. Mel didn’t like mornings on the best of days, but in January, even in Scottsdale, Arizona, it surely was a crime to be dragged out of bed before the sun, especially without a cup of coffee to chase away the morning chill. Still, Angie had been her best friend for more than twenty years. She wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important.

That thought got Mel moving. She grabbed a thick-hooded sweatshirt and tugged it on over her flannel pajamas. She could feel the static raise her short blonde hair up, and she imagined she looked like a troll doll on a bad-hair day, without the cute belly button. She jammed her feet into her slip-on sneakers and grabbed her keys.

Mel lived in a snug studio apartment above their cupcake bakery, Fairy Tale Cupcakes, in the heart of Old Town Scottsdale. Angie was her partner, along with their other childhood friend, Tate Harper, who was their main investor. The corner of Fifth and Scottsdale was only a block away. She could be there in minutes.

She pounded down the back stairs and hurried to her red Mini Cooper, which was parked in an adjacent lot. Two quick rights later, she slid into a parking spot in front of an art gallery. The commuter traffic was just beginning, and the intersection ahead of her had an impressive line of cars waiting for the light to change.

Mel spotted Angie sitting on a wooden bench just south of the corner. She didn’t appear to be sporting burns or lacerations, so a car accident was out of the question.

“What’s up?” Mel asked as she slid onto the bench beside her.

“Wait for it,” Angie said and handed her a large, steaming latte in a tall paper cup.

Mel’s will to live increased tenfold.

“Wait for . . . ?”

Angie held up her hand, and Mel took a sip from her cup, knowing it would do no good to press. Angie was stubborn like that.

The steaming swallow of java was halfway down her throat when she glanced up and saw a six-foot-tall cupcake come around the corner. Her coffee shot back up her throat, and she erupted into a fit of coughing, causing Angie to pound her on the back.

Mel shoved her aside as soon as she could drag in a breath and goggled at the enormous pink confection strutting between the idling vehicles. It took only a moment to recognize her archenemy, but there was no doubt about it. The giant cupcake was Olivia Puckett!

She was wearing an electric blue satin skirt, pleated accordion style and topped by a pink puffy blouse, stuffed to resemble a gob of frosting and beaded to give it a sprinkle effect. She wore this over bright blue support hose and broad white high heels. A big, round cherry sat on top of her head, tied under her chin like a bonnet. She was handing out hot pink flyers, one of which Angie shoved into Mel’s hands.

Free Cupcakes!
it read in bold print. It was a coupon for anyone who entered Confections, Olivia’s rival bakery.

“Do you think it’s a felony to hit a cupcake with your car?” Mel asked.

“Hard to say. You might want to check with Uncle Stan first,” Angie said.

Mel’s Uncle Stan was a detective with the Scottsdale Police Department. She supposed she could ask him, but somehow she didn’t think she’d like the answer.

The light changed, and they watched as the enormous cupcake was caught in the crosswalk and had to hustle her pleated derriere out of the way before the rude honks escalated to rude hand gestures.

It was then, as she tottered onto the curb trying to catch her balance, that the giant cupcake spotted Angie and Mel. She gave them a calculated glance as if she considered them potential customers, but then recognition kicked in. Her ingratiating smile morphed into a look of haughty disdain—impressive with a cherry the size of a bowling ball on her head—and she turned away from them with her nose in the air.

“You’d think after her shenanigans last year Olivia would strive to maintain a lower profile,” Angie said.

“You’d think,” Mel agreed. “But what kind of nemesis would she be if she crawled off and disappeared?”