Buttercream Bump Off (13 page)

“You look better without it,” Mel said. “Honestly, the hair wasn’t doing a thing for you.”

He didn’t look like he believed her. “I’m never going to get Beatriz to date me now.”

“How do you know her?” Mel asked. “She’s too young to live here.”

“She’s my yoga instructor,” he said.

“You take yoga?”

“What? A man can’t take yoga?”

“No, it’s not that,” Mel said. “It’s just—Don’t you think she’s a bit young for you?”

Marty opened the door and swung his feet out. He looked back over his shoulder at Mel. “All my life I was a good and dutiful husband and father. I worked hard and provided well and loved them with all that I had. Then the kids grew up and moved away, and Jeanie died.”

His words slowed, and he said, “There didn’t seem to be much reason to get up anymore—and then I saw her. I’ve never dated a beautiful woman. You know, the sort of woman who can stop people in their tracks and make them forget what they’re doing? So, if not now, when?”

He shut the door gently behind him, and Mel watched as he gingerly walked towards the entrance of the building. A piece of linguine stuck out of the back of his pants, and a tomato slice dragged off the back of his right heel.

If not now, when indeed?

Mel arrived back at Fairy Tale Cupcakes. Her eyes had stopped watering, and her nose was plugged up with snot, obviously a self-defense mechanism. She didn’t stop in the bakery, but hurried up the back stairs to her apartment to scour the ick off in her shower.

It took three lathers with soap and shampoo to get the stink out, but she finally managed it. Her stacked washer was already churning away at her clothes, but she figured she might have to run them through twice just to be sure.

Her short blonde hair dried quickly and, after pulling on fresh jeans and a sweater, she slipped on her sneakers and dashed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

She pushed through the back door, calling, “Tate!” but was startled by the sound of two men yelling and holding up her industrial-size cupcake tins as if they were shields.

“Ah!” She jumped back just as Tate came into the kitchen from the front. “Angie?”

“No, it’s Mel,” she said. The other two men lowered their cupcake pans, and Mel bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

“Um, Sal, is there any particular reason you are covered in blue paint splotches?” she asked Angie’s older brother.

He glowered. She glanced at the other man. “You, too, Tony?”

He shrugged and went back to eating the vanilla cupcake on the table in front of him.

“She ambushed us,” Sal explained.

“Angie?” Mel guessed.

“She lured us into an alley, and then she splattered us with a paintball gun,” Tony said. “Tactically speaking, it was brilliant.”

“Hunh,” Sal grunted. He bit into his own cupcake and chewed. When he swallowed, he said, “Tate, has there been any word from unit B-2 or B-3?”

“None yet,” Tate said. “I’m getting worried. They should have checked in by now.”

“Tate, what exactly is going on?” Mel asked. “Who are B-2 and B-3?”

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, but his voice went up a notch, and she knew he was lying. “We’re just doing a little Angie recon. B-2 and B-3 stand for Brothers 2 and Brothers 3.”

“Angie recon?” Mel repeated.

“Yeah, you know, making sure she’s okay with that musician guy,” he said.

“She is going to mur—”

Whatever Mel was about to say was cut off as the back door swung open and in walked Paulie and Al. They were carrying what appeared to be the remains of some tires.

“We were right behind them,” Paulie said. “And the next thing I know, all four of my tires blew out. They had nails in them. I think she scattered those nails on purpose.”

“You think?” Sal asked, rubbing one of his blue eyebrows.

Just then, Tate’s phone sounded its distinctive James Bond chime.

“Base here,” he answered. “What? She did what? Well, how did she get that much shaving cream in your car?”

The brothers exchanged glances. Mel had to turn away before she offended them all by laughing out loud.

“Well, fine. Go home then.” He pressed a button on his phone and slid it back into his pocket. “I can’t believe that six grown men can’t manage to follow their little sister on a date without her knowing. You should all be ashamed of yourselves.”

“Sal, Tony, what’s the matter?” Joe DeLaura asked his brothers as he strolled in from the front room. “You look a little blue.”

“Funny, really funny,” Sal said. He jammed the rest of his cupcake into his mouth and stormed towards the door. “Let’s go, Tony. I suppose you two need a ride?”

Without a word, Paulie and Al followed.

“I’m calling her cell phone,” Tate said, and he strode back into the bakery.

“What did I miss?” Joe asked.

“Angie recon,” Mel said. “It didn’t go well.”

Joe pulled her into his arms for a proper hello. When he released her, Mel had to steady herself by gripping the side of the table. Joe gave her a slow grin and then helped himself to an Orange Dreamsicle Cupcake.

“Heaven,” he muttered through a bite of cupcake.

“Are you just dating me for my cupcakes?”

“Who said I was talking about the cupcake?” he countered. His dark brown eyes lingered on her face, and Mel felt herself flush. Oh, dear.

“I wish Angie were here,” she said, feeling a sudden need to change the subject. “I’m worried.”

“Sounds like the brothers kept her too busy to get into trouble,” Joe said. “Do you think she’s in any danger?”

“From Roach?” Mel asked. “I don’t know. I wish he wasn’t Malloy’s son, and I wish he wasn’t a suspect.”

“Me, too,” Joe agreed. His voice was grim.

“Tate and I are going to the concert with Angie tonight,” Mel said. She put her hand on Joe’s shoulder to reassure him. “I’ll check him out up close.”

Joe put his hand over Mel’s. “I don’t like it. Promise me you’ll be careful and call me before, during, and after, got it?”

“Got it.”

“I have to get back to the office,” he said with a sigh. “Don’t forget. Call me.”

He kissed Mel good-bye and left through the back door.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” a voice said from the opposite door.

Mel spun around to find Detective Martinez standing there. She had the feeling he’d been there watching them, and it irked her.

“Just saying good-bye to my boyfriend,” she said.

“Assistant District Attorney Joe DeLaura,” he said. “Nice.”

“Is there a problem with me dating him?”

“Not for me,” he said. He strolled around her kitchen and stopped at her industrial mixer. “Nice Hobart.”

“Thanks.”

“So, that was quite a luncheon this afternoon,” he said.

Mel blew out a breath. So that’s why he was here. She decided to play it cool. “Really? How so?”

“I heard there was quite a scuffle between you and Olivia Puckett.”

“She’s very territorial and has some issues with my bakery,” Mel said.

“The way she told it, you cut into her charity event,” he said.

“I covered for her,” Mel said. “I teach a couples’ cupcake class, and one of the women is on the board. I was happy to help out.”

Wow
, Mel thought.
Word choice is so very important when you are trying to avoid culpability without actually lying.

“Ms. Puckett seemed to think you set it up,” he said.

“I expect she was distraught at being late.”

Detective Martinez turned back around to face her and crossed his arms over his chest. He resembled a brick wall. With his dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin, and sturdy build, Mel had no doubt that he was very successful at intimidating his suspects. Fortunately, she was not one of them. She just had to keep reminding herself of that.

“Yes, that must be it,” he said. Mel glanced away but felt him watching her.

Not a suspect, not a suspect, not a suspect.
She chanted the litany in her head. Still, her palms were sweaty, and she felt the need to flee.

“Can I offer you a cupcake?” she asked.

“No th . . .” He paused and then said, “Actually, yes.”

Mel was momentarily caught off guard. She had not figured him for a sweets guy and had just assumed he’d say no.

“Okay,” she said.

This would take some thought. She looked him up and down. His khaki pants were pressed with a stiff crease, his shoes were buffed to a gloss that would allow her to check her teeth for stray lettuce leaves, and his dress shirt was wrinkle free and starched at the collar and cuffs. This was a man who paid attention to the details.

“Lemon,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Sit,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

Mel ducked into the bakery and came back with a fresh lemon cupcake iced with a tart lemon buttercream. Milk didn’t go very well with this one, so she poured him a glass of sweet tea to wash it down.

Martinez studied her. “How did you know?”

“Know what?” she asked.

“That lemon is my favorite flavor?”

Mel took the seat across from him. “I just had a feeling.”

He cautiously sampled a small bite. His eyebrows lifted again, but this time in surprise.

“Wow,” he said. “You made this?”

Mel nodded.

“Impressive,” he said. He tucked into the cake and didn’t speak again until it was gone and he’d drained his glass of iced tea. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said.

He picked up his plate and stood to take it to the sink. Mel stood at the same time, and they collided at the corner of the table. Martinez was reaching out to grab her elbow to steady her when the kitchen door swung open.

“Mel, what are you doing?” Tate stuck his head around the door. “We have to go! Angie, the concert, remember?”

“Concert?” Martinez asked.

“We’re going to see a friend of a friend, sort of,” she said.

“Uh-huh.” He studied her for a second and then said, “Have fun.”

He strolled back out to the bakery, picking up a four-pack of lemon cupcakes on his way. As soon as Tate rang up the sale, he bolted the door after the detective and Mel was given no time to debate what the heck
that
had been about, which was probably a good thing. Because she definitely did not want to acknowledge the flutter of attraction she had felt when she and the detective collided. Nope, she wasn’t going there. No way, no how.

“Mel, snap out of it!” Tate barked.

They scrambled around the bakery closing up, and Mel had just ditched her apron and changed her outfit when a car and driver pulled up to the curb.

“Show time,” Tate said. He had a manic light in his eyes that made Mel nervous.

“So, what do we know about this guy exactly?” Tate asked Mel as they were driven to the Dodge Theater in downtown Phoenix in the Lincoln Town Car that Roach had sent for them. Angie was supposed to be with them, but she had texted Mel earlier that she’d meet them at the gig.

“He’s Baxter Malloy’s son, he and his father haven’t spoken in years, and he likes Angie,” Mel said for the third time. She was getting tired of repeating herself.

“But why does he like Angie?” Tate asked. “He could have anyone. Why is he interested in a cupcake baker?”

“You should probably ask him,” Mel suggested. She was beginning to lose her patience. “All I know is when Angie gave him static for coming after me, he was smitten. Probably, he’s not used to women who don’t fall all over themselves for him.”

“So, it’s just a phase that will pass?” Tate asked.

“Or it’s the real thing,” Mel said.

Tate glowered at the back of their driver’s head.

“She’s meeting us, right?”

“Yes,” Mel answered. They’d covered this, too. “At the back entrance.”

“Good.” He folded his arms across his chest and brooded. Mel heaved a sigh. She wished Joe was here. It would have been nice to have his input right now, but he had to work on the trial. She knew it was the biggest case of his career—and she wanted him to succeed, she really did—but sometimes she felt like she had an absentee boyfriend.

“We’re here,” the driver said as he pulled around the back. He parked in a narrow spot between two black tour buses and hopped out to open the door for Mel and Tate.

“Ms. Cooper? Mr. Harper?” a man wearing an earpiece and looking harried approached them with two black lanyards that sported a plastic-encased picture of the band and listed them as VIPs.

“This way, please,” he said.

Mel and Tate followed him up a staircase and through a heavy steel door. They were ushered down a hallway and led into a cramped room that smelled of incense.

The room was packed with people, and Mel craned her neck to see over the group. She needn’t have bothered. A much taller Angie waved at them over the crowd. She kissed Roach on the cheek and made her way towards them.