Murder So Sweet (A Sweet Cove Mystery Book 2) (6 page)

Angie’s face was blank. “How would I do that?”

“I don’t know. Just think about it while you make it.” Courtney stood up. “Come on. Try it.”

Angie started to protest. “I don’t know. It sounds crazy.”

“Exactly.” Ellie frowned.

Jenna stood up. “It can’t hurt to try it. Think of it as an experiment. Test what you’re capable of.” She grabbed Angie’s hands and pulled her up from her seat. “It could be fun.” Jenna laughed as she and Courtney corralled Angie and herded her into the kitchen.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Angie asked, “What should I make?” She was still wary about the idea.

“What does Mr. Finch like?” Courtney turned to Ellie. “Does he eat the same thing each morning?”

“He hasn’t been here that long.” Ellie thought about it and her eyes brightened. “He’s had a muffin every morning. Blueberry.” She shook her head and muttered. “Why am I helping with this?”

Everyone, but Ellie, bustled about the kitchen pulling out muffin tins, flour, eggs, and sugar. The ingredients were piled on the counter for Angie.

“How should I do it?” Angie put an apron over her head and tied it in back.

“Try thinking about what you want to happen.” Courtney placed a big bowl in front of Angie.

Jenna carried the mixer to the table. “While preparing the batter, you should have purpose and intention about what you want from the muffins.”

“This is ridiculous. It’s stupid.” Ellie rolled her eyes. “How can Angie put intention into a food product?”

Angie ignored her sister’s comments and looked over all of the items. “Hmmm, okay.” She picked up a measuring cup.

“Maybe close your eyes. To block out distractions,” Courtney suggested.

Angie tilted her head to the side and gave her sister a look. “Close my eyes? Then how will I bake if I can’t see what I’m doing?”

Ellie stood up from the chair she’d been sitting in. “Maybe it’s best if we clear out of here and let you work.”

They all knew that Ellie didn’t want to be part of the experiment and the reason for leaving the room had nothing to do with what was best for Angie’s baking.

Jenna gave Ellie an empathetic smile and took her by the elbow. She steered her to the doorway. “You’re probably right. We should let Angie do her thing. We shouldn’t distract her. Let’s leave her alone.”

Courtney looked disappointed, but she followed Jenna’s lead. “Okay. Good luck, Angie. Just focus on what you want the muffins to do.” She gave Angie a hug and left the room.

Angie stared at the ingredients and the equipment. She wasn’t sure what to do. It seemed an impossible task.

Euclid and the black cat entered the kitchen. Euclid led the way to the top of the refrigerator and his friend followed him. Angie looked at them. “I’m glad you’re here, you two. You can keep me company. And bring me good luck.”

She took a deep breath and plunged in to make her muffins. At first, Angie thought about Mr. Finch and getting him to tell the truth, but as she mixed, her mind wandered to other things. Josh Williams was a prominent part of her daydreams.

When she was finished, she placed the muffin mixture in the refrigerator for morning baking and started the kitchen clean up.

***

In the morning, Ellie eyed the muffin batter in the fridge with trepidation. She took a deep breath and reluctantly filled the tins. With trembling hands, she placed the tins in the oven, set the timer, and then prepared the other breakfast foods for the guests.

She carried the items to the buffet table in the dining room and placed the basket of muffins next to the bowl of mixed fruit. Spread across the top of the buffet, there were different selections of cereals in glass containers, a basket with bananas and apples, a bowl of yogurt, and several jugs filled with a variety of juices.

Besides Mr. Finch and Mr. and Mrs. Foley, the retired couple who was staying for two weeks, two elderly sisters had arrived the prior evening. Ellie was pleased with the reservations that had been coming in. The B and B would be nearly full every week during July and August, and September was filling fast.

As Ellie was bringing a pot of fresh coffee to the table, Mr. Finch appeared at the bottom of the staircase. He and Ellie exchanged greetings and Finch limped to his seat at the table.

“Would you like your usual, this morning, Mr. Finch?” Ellie filled his teacup.

“Maybe something different today.”

Ellie’s face blanched worried that Finch might not choose a muffin. It was her job to get him to eat one. “What can I get you?”

“I’d like a boiled egg and some wheat toast, please.” Finch went back to his paper and Ellie’s heart sank as she walked to the kitchen to get the egg and toast.

Bringing the food back to the dining room, Ellie racked her brain for ideas to get Finch to eat a blueberry muffin. She heard the voices of the retired couple talking with Finch.

“Oh, Ellie, I was just telling Mr. Finch how delicious these muffins are.” Mrs. Foley had two of the blueberry muffins on her plate slathered with butter.

Ellie wanted to hug Mrs. Foley. “They’re one of Angie’s specialties.” She eyed Finch to see if he might go to the buffet table to get one, but Mr. Foley was conversing with him. Ellie wished Foley would just eat his breakfast and stop distracting Finch.

“Can I bring you a muffin, Mr. Finch?” Ellie plastered a pleasant smile on her face.

“What?” The old man glanced up. “Oh, yes. A muffin, please.”

Ellie chose the largest one, placed it on a plate, and served it to Finch. Bustling about the room, Ellie’s heart leaped with joy when she saw Finch bite into the muffin.

“Very good,” he mumbled as he chewed.

Angie came down the stairs and said good morning to the guests. She chose fruit and yogurt from the buffet table and sat down across from Mr. Finch. He stared at her.

Angie could feel the man’s eyes on her, and she took a quick look at him to see if something was wrong.

“Your muffins are….” Finch stopped in mid-sentence. “You look very beautiful this morning, Angie.”

Angie was reaching for the creamer but her hand froze at Finch’s comment. “Ah, thank you.”

“You are an extraordinary woman, my dear. Why has no man snatched you up?”

Angie looked at Finch with wide eyes. Mr. and Mrs. Foley glanced at the older man out of the corner of their eyes. Ellie whirled towards Finch with her jaw hanging open.

“Just look at this woman.” Finch leaned across the table, his eyes on Angie like lasers. “The porcelain skin, those eyes as blue as the ocean, and that figure….” Finch leered at Angie.

“Are you quite all right, Mr. Finch?” Mrs. Foley asked.

Dear God. What did that muffin do to him?
Angie got up so fast from the table that her chair almost tipped over. She made eye contact with Ellie, who shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, I’m off for the day,” Angie announced with mock cheerfulness. Eager to get away from Finch, she left her barely touched breakfast on the table and headed for the hallway that led to the kitchen.

“May I join you, my dear?” Finch asked hopefully.

“I’m afraid not.” Angie hurried away.
What have I done?

“Before you go, what about joining me upstairs in my room?” Mr. Finch cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow.

“Mr. Finch!” Mrs. Foley was appalled. She turned to Ellie. “Should we call an ambulance?”

“What?” Ellie watched Angie tear down the hallway. “Why?”

“Perhaps Mr. Finch has had a stroke.” Mrs. Foley’s face was pinched with worry.

“Nonsense, woman. I’m fit as a fiddle.” Finch rose from his chair and limped for the hall calling to Angie.

“Mr. Finch.” Ellie spoke harshly. “The kitchen area is off limits to guests.”

“Well, an exception could be made in this case?” Finch smiled at Ellie.

“Absolutely not.” Ellie brushed past the man. She carried an empty coffee pot to the kitchen to refill it. “Return to your seat.”

Angie was about to leave through the back door off the kitchen when Ellie rushed in and asked, “What on earth is happening?”

“I have no idea.” Angie’s face was pale.

“How did this go wrong?” Ellie pulled her blonde ponytail over her shoulder and fiddled with the long strands. “What were you thinking about while you prepared the muffin batter?”

“About Finch telling the truth about things.”

“Was that all? Did you keep your mind on that topic the whole time?”

Angie sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. “Mostly.”

Ellie put her hands on her hips. She was afraid to ask, but said, “What else did you think about?”

Angie met Ellie’s eyes. “Josh.”

Ellie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no. Finch has fallen in love with you. Your thoughts about Josh must have been so strong that they overrode your other intention to make Finch tell the truth.”

Angie leaped from her seat. “How long is this going to last? It can’t last forever, can it? How long will it take to wear off?” She stared with wild eyes towards the hall. “Go in there. Make him throw up.”

“How?” Ellie’s hands trembled when she brushed her hair back.

“Angie.” Finch called from the dining room.

Angie grabbed her wallet from the counter and hurried to the back door. “I’m getting out of here. Text me when it’s safe to come back.”

“What should I do with him?” Ellie asked.

“Wake up Courtney. Tell her to think of something,” Angie said over her shoulder.

“What if nothing works?” Ellie asked.

“Then we’ll have to kill him.” Angie opened the back door. She glanced back to see Ellie’s horrified face. “Ellie, I’m kidding.”

Ellie nodded. “Okay. Go.” She turned her head to be sure Finch wasn’t coming into the room. “It’s best if he isn’t around you right now. We’ll think of something.” She hoped.

Chapter 9

Angie hurried around the side of the Victorian being sure to hug the property line to keep as far from the house’s windows as possible. She did not want Mr. Finch to see her escaping. She halted when she came up parallel with the front of the house and peeked around to see if anyone was on the porch. The coast was clear, so she rushed to the sidewalk and practically ran up Beach Street. Her mind was a jumble. Angie felt awful that she tried to manipulate Mr. Finch into being forthcoming about his relationship with his murdered brother by concocting a “truth” muffin. She never dreamed that the experiment would backfire in such a weird way.
Please let his mood be temporary
.

Angie kept looking over her shoulder to be sure that Finch wasn’t following behind. When she reached the main street of Sweet Cove, Angie thought she might try to pass a few hours by walking down to Robin’s Point. She could hang around near the cove to browse the stores, walk along the beach, and get some lunch because if she didn’t keep herself busy, she’d go crazy from worrying about what was going on back at the Victorian.

Angie had no idea how long the muffin “spell” would last, but its duration would dictate the length of time she would need to stay away from the house. She checked her phone for any messages from her sisters.
Nothing.

Wiping nervous perspiration from her brow, she decided to duck into the small grocery store on Main Street for a bottle of water. Approaching the checkout counter with her purchase, she greeted the store owner. He was talking with a Sweet Cove cab driver who Angie knew. Walt, the cab driver, had often picked up Angie or her sisters at the train station and driven them into town.

“Hey, Angie.” Walt put his coffee cup down on the end of the checkout counter. “How are you? I heard you found old Finch’s body.”

She nodded as she pulled money from her pocket to pay for her purchase. “Courtney and I found him.”

“That must have been a shock.”

The store owner rang the sale into the cash register.

“And so soon after Professor Linden was murdered.” Walt stroked his chin. “What’s going on in this town? Did someone put a spell on our pretty, little Sweet Cove?”

At his mention of the word
spell
, Angie shot Walt a horrified look.

“Did Finch have any relatives, I wonder?” The owner handed Angie her change.

She put the money in her pocket and picked up the bottle of water. “Finch had a brother. In fact, he’s a guest at the Victorian. He checked into the B and B the day Finch was killed.”

“He had a brother?” the store owner asked. “I never saw Finch with anyone.”

“The brother lives on the west coast. He arrived in town on the day of the murder.” Angie found a hair elastic in her pocket and, balancing the water under her arm, she pulled her honey colored locks into a high ponytail.

“The brother was here before the day of the murder.” Walt took a sip of his coffee.

Angie cocked her head to the side. “He was?”

“Yeah.” Walt swirled his coffee around in the paper cup. “I picked him up at the train station a couple of days before Finch got killed.”

“I thought he arrived the very day of the murder.” Angie’s brows drew together.

“Nope.”

“You’re sure it was Finch’s brother? Did he introduce himself to you?”

“No, but I recognized him getting into the police car at your house the other day. I was driving by. That’s the brother, right?”

Angie nodded. “We were all going with Chief Martin to Finch’s house.”

“The brother has a house here?” the store owner asked.

“No,” Angie said. “We were going to dead Finch’s house.” She turned to Walt. “Are you sure you picked him up before the day of the murder?”

“I know I’m getting old, Angie, but I’m not senile yet.” Walt chuckled.

“Where did you drop him off?”

“At the resort.” Walt drained his cup. “Gotta go. Can’t be hanging around shooting the breeze all day.” He threw his cup in the trash can behind the counter and strode out the door.

Angie left the store right after Walt, her mind puzzling over why Finch might have told her that he only came to town on the day of the murder when Walt said he dropped Finch at the resort two days prior. She turned left and headed down the street towards Robin’s Point.

***

Angie walked onto the grounds of the resort. She could feel the familiar humming in her blood that happened whenever she was on the point. Years ago, her grandmother had owned a cottage on Robin’s Point where Angie and her sisters spent many happy weeks. Being on the point always caused a low level pulsing in Angie’s blood. Courtney told her that she could feel the thrumming too and that it made her feel close to Nana.