Cherry Buried Cake (Black Cat Cafe Cozy Mystery Series Book 13) Read online

  Connie barely touched Annie’s arm before she pointed to a booth with a view of Heron Lake. “I’ll make myself comfy over there. Could you bring me a large coffee, please? With a big shot of half and half, no sugar.” She waved to Sarah who’d just walked in. Alone. “Come sit with me, hon, Annie’s bringing coffee.”

  Annie swallowed the words she wanted to say to Connie—something along the lines of please, help yourself. But, since these were Leona’s bed and breakfast guests she bit her tongue, assuming they probably had the expectation of being served. She relaxed her clenched jaw and fixed two coffees, both the same. Sarah could walk to the drink cart to adjust hers if necessary.

  This was going to be a long morning.

  “. . . and then I heard someone say it looked like strangulation,” Annie overheard Connie whisper to Sarah as she set the coffees on the table. Connie plumped her gray curls. “He didn’t know I was standing in the doorway leading to the foyer.”

  Sarah’s face turned from a pink blush from the cold outside air to white that matched the snow. “Strangled? How gruesome.” She twisted the napkin in her hands to a tight knot then shredded it into tiny bits of paper that landed in a pile in front of her.

  “You heard Detective Crank say that?” Annie asked.

  “No, it definitely wasn’t her since what I heard was a male’s voice.” Connie clearly was thrilled to be the center of attention while delivering this juicy tidbit.

  The police chief possibly? Annie wondered.

  Connie shrugged. “No one noticed me with all the people going up and down the stairs, in and out letting cold air inside, and tromping snow on those beautiful floors.” Connie shook her head. “Leona will have to do some refinishing after the mess left behind from all those feet.” She folded her hands. “What’s on the menu for breakfast?”

  By now, all the Blackbird Bed and Breakfast guests were sitting around the café. George pouted by himself at a small table near the French doors. Why wasn’t he sitting with his wife over here with Connie? Annie wondered. Robin and Jared were at another booth. Robin sat tall and straight with her eyes glued to her phone as she tap-tapped away. Jared slumped over the table with his head resting on his arms. Alex sat at the counter nursing a cup of coffee while he chatted with Greta.

  A few more early customers were scattered around the café with hot drinks and sweet confections. They chattered about the storm and seemed to be enjoying the cozy atmosphere. It looked like any other morning but with the chef’s murder hanging in the air, Annie knew that looks were deceiving.

  “So? Breakfast?” Connie’s question brought Annie back to the task at hand. “I don’t want to dawdle for too long since I had to leave Buddy at the Blackbird. Leona assured me she would keep an eye on him but he gets terrible anxiety when he’s separated from me.”

  “No worries, Leona will make sure Buddy has everything he needs.” Including some fun with no coat or booties so he can romp outside like a normal dog. “We have a delicious treat for breakfast. I know you’ll both love it.”

  Sarah finally had a bit of color back in her cheeks. She glanced across the café at George who sat staring out the French doors. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” she said, more to herself than to Annie or Connie. “Ever since that detective questioned him last night and rummaged through our suitcases, he hasn’t said a word to me.”

  Connie patted Sarah’s hand that rested on the table. “Men don’t like to talk about their feelings, dear. I think, for them, it’s worse than having a tooth pulled without Novocain. Give him his space and he’ll come around.” She stirred her coffee and sipped a bit off her spoon. “Oh my. This is perfect. Exactly how I like it.” She flicked her fingers at Annie. “Go get our breakfast, dear. I’m ravenous.”

  Annie crouched so she was at the same level with Connie and Sarah. “Before I get your breakfast, I was wondering about what you said when I brought your coffee. You heard one of the investigators say the chef was strangled?”

  Connie leaned toward Annie. “That’s exactly what I heard. And you know what else?”

  Annie waited, knowing Connie couldn’t wait to divulge whatever other information she was holding onto.

  “They also had a short discussion about Phil, you know, the guy who never made it to the workshop, who died in his car?”

  Annie had completely forgotten about him. “What about Phil?”

  Connie looked around the café and lowered her voice to a whisper. “They think it might not have been an accident and the two deaths could be connected.” She sat back with a satisfied grin.

  Annie blinked several times at this new bit of information and made a mental note not to ever share anything with Connie that she didn’t want spread around like a spilled drink. “How could that be? Everyone from the workshop was at the Blackbird when Phil died.”

  “Not everyone.” Connie’s eyes moved to the counter and the only person sitting there sipping coffee.

  Annie turned her head. “Alex?”

  “He arrived later out of the blue. Was it merely a coincidence? Didn’t you think that was odd?”

  Annie had to admit that it was an odd coincidence and she certainly had considered the possibility of Alex being the murderer. He had been so helpful with the generator. And he even washed the pots and pans. Was that all just a cover?

  Sarah’s eyes widened. “And he was upstairs when the chef was murdered.”

  “Everyone except Leona and myself were upstairs so that’s no proof of anything,” Annie said. She wondered what the police had found to think there was a connection.

  As Annie stood and straightened her legs she felt one of her knees pop. They always complained more in the cold weather. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  She had only gone two steps before she heard her name being called. “Annie? Could we get our breakfast to go?”

  Annie saw that Robin hadn’t taken her coat or knit beanie off. “Yes, I suppose so. Where are you going?”

  Robin smirked. “Back to the Blackbird, of course.” She glanced at Jared. “He’s going home. The questions last night from the detective were all a bit much for Jared. Well, that and all the guests looking at him sideways every time he even took a breath. They all think you did it, right Jared?” she tapped his head to get him to look up at her.

  “You aren’t helping any, Robin. I told you to quit being so glib about this. It’s serious, and all because of you the spotlight is on me now. I should never have listened to you—‘it will be fun; you can play computer games all weekend; no one will ever know you’re even in the room’. Well, that didn’t work out like you promised.” He slid out of the booth. “Forget the breakfast. I’m not a breakfast person anyway.” He shuffled across the café with his head tucked down in his upturned collar, making him look more like a turtle trying to hide than a young man.

  “I’ll be eating here after all since my ride just slinked out. Can I have his breakfast, too?” Robin asked. “I was up late writing down all this intrigue and it gave me one ginormous appetite.”

  “No. Jared wasn’t actually a guest at the Blackbird so he wasn’t entitled to a breakfast to begin with. Aren’t you upset even a little that he left?”

  Robin shrugged. “Naw. I was getting tired of him anyway. He doesn’t have any goals. You know, he’s one of those people who always blames someone else when anything goes wrong in his life. Didn’t you catch that? He blamed me for being at the Blackbird and getting grilled by the detective. I wasn’t the one to tell him to go poking around in all the rooms when we were downstairs. I wasn’t even the one to tell him to come—he came up with the idea first.”

  That made Annie’s forehead wrinkle into tight ripples. “Does Detective Crank know he snooped around?”

  “She’ll figure it out if she hasn’t already. Jared’s plan was to look for money or prescriptions laying around so he must have left his fingerprints everywhere. He’s not careful like I would have been.”

  Annie slid into the side
of the booth that was still warm from Jared. “Did he steal anything?”

  Robin shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he did.”

  “Did he kill Chef Marcel?” The question fell out of Annie’s mouth before she could stop herself.

  “Don’t know the answer to that either. I suppose it’s possible that the chef walked in when Jared was in his room and something happened. If I learned anything from what happened last night, it’s that Jared is a fool. He would have panicked before he could think of a plan to get his sorry butt out of a jam.”

  “Why did you sneak him into your room in the first place?” Annie had a hard time squaring Robin’s words with her actions. “The way you’re talking about him now, it sounds like you don’t even like the guy.”

  Nothing appeared to phase Robin. “Yeah, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Hindsight is always fifty-fifty, isn’t it? Take you, for example. You probably wished you’d gone home instead of taking that desperate call from Leona so you wouldn’t be involved in this mess.”

  Annie didn’t see that comment coming. “How do you know I wasn’t planning to help all along?” This girl was giving Annie the creeps. She knew too much.

  Robin tapped her ears. “No one else was paying attention. They were all freaking out about the road conditions when Leona called you. Sure, I only heard one side of the conversation but it wasn’t a leap to figure out that she was begging someone to come and then you showed up. Not hard to put that together. So, maybe everyone has some regrets now after how the evening went.” She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, challenging Annie to disagree.

  She couldn’t. The first person who would have the biggest regret would have been Chef Marcel if he was still around to even have that sentiment, Annie thought.

  Robin’s cool, calm, demeanor unsettled her to the point of forcing her to look away. Robin had been upstairs, too, and could have snuck into the chef’s room, and she hadn’t wanted to participate in the workshop to begin with. But that certainly wasn’t enough of a motive to kill him, was it?

  Unlikely.

  At any rate, Robin had no trouble spinning theories from the drama at the Blackbird. Did she act on one of her scenarios for her novel?

  11

  Annie made a tray of the pastry-wrapped, caramel apples to deliver to each of Leona’s guests waiting for their breakfasts. She started with Connie and Sarah. Connie was still busy trying to cheer up Sarah to get her mind off of her grumpy husband.

  Robin was next. Annie plopped the plate in front of her but she barely noticed with her eyes glued to her phone.

  George barely grunted an acknowledgement when Annie offered him the pastry.

  “Was that a yes or no?” Annie asked him.

  George looked up at Annie as if he’d never seen her before. “What is it?” He wrinkled his nose.

  “A pastry-wrapped, caramel-filled baked apple.” She forced a smile.

  George pushed himself back from the table and stood. He looked down at Annie. “This isn’t what was promised for the workshop meals. We were supposed to have our meals at the bed and breakfast, not,” he waved his hand around the café, “this place.”

  Annie used all of her inner resources to ignore his insulting tone. “I’m sure you understand the extenuating circumstances, Mr. Walter. Leona couldn’t have foreseen what would happen to Chef Marcel.” She was having great difficulty keeping her calm when what she really wanted to do was grab him by the scarf around his neck and wring the snarl off his face. Instead, her smile returned. “I could pack your breakfast and you could take it back to the Blackbird if that works better for you.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” He walked to the booth where Connie and Sarah sat.

  Annie quickly boxed up the apple pastry, added an egg and cheese croissant, and threw in a blueberry muffin for good measure. It couldn’t hurt. By the time she carried it to George he was in the middle of an argument with Sarah.

  “Walk for all I care. I’m leaving and you can come or not. You decide.” George grabbed the bag from Annie and hustled to the door without looking back.

  “Oh dear.” Sarah’s eyes brimmed to overflowing. “What do I do now?”

  “Let him go, dear. No offense or anything, but who wants to spend time with such a grump? I’ll give you a ride,” Connie offered. “Relax. Enjoy your breakfast. Without the workshop happening, we can stroll up and down Main Street and check out the cute shops. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

  “What about Buddy?” Sarah asked. “Doesn’t he get anxious when you’re gone?”

  Connie glanced at Annie. “Do you think Leona will mind if I don’t get right back like I promised? Sarah could really use some distraction to cheer her up.”

  “Mind having Buddy around? Not at all. Danny will probably keep him busy outside while he cleans all the paths, brings in firewood, and whatever else needs doing. Don’t worry at all.” It was a small price to pay on Leona’s part for more time without these guests breathing down her neck.

  “That’s settled then, Sarah. We’ll be tourists for the day and it will give George a chance to work through his bad mood.”

  Annie was glad that Connie had some common sense and expressed exactly what she was thinking. The only difference was that she didn’t think George had the ability to work through his bad mood. He had been grumpy from the minute Annie met him the day before.

  “He was really looking forward to this workshop, you know,” Sarah said, obviously unable to get him out of her mind. “He made the reservations for our Christmas present.”

  “Oh?” Annie replied. “And you were looking forward to the workshop, too?”

  “Well . . .” Sarah stretched out the word. “It wasn’t my first choice. I was hoping for a cruise, but George said I needed to learn how to make a few fancy desserts.”

  “You needed to learn?” Connie’s eyebrows disappeared under her gray bangs. “I hope you told him that he could do the learning himself.”

  “Oh, I’m not as vocal as you are, Connie.” She sighed. “I wish I was sometimes, though.”

  “If George manages to get a refund, maybe he’ll take you on that cruise instead,” Annie suggested. She really didn’t think there was much hope of getting a refund from a dead guy but she wanted to make Sarah feel a little better.

  “The order form said no refunds for any reason so I don’t think we’ll be seeing that money. And we can’t expect poor Leona to give any money back since we are staying there and she’s providing our meals.”

  “Right. So, you need to enjoy the weekend anyway. Make the best of the situation. That’s what I always tell myself when something gets in the way of my plans. I say, Connie, you never know what this may lead to. It could very well be something more fun. So, eat up that pastry so we can enjoy the next part of the breakfast.” Connie looked at Annie. “There is more to come, isn’t there?”

  “Of course. I’ll be right back with your breakfast croissant.” Annie made a quick detour to the drink cart. She started a fresh pot of coffee and topped off the half and half. The hot beverages always disappeared more quickly during the cold winter weather.

  Without turning around, Annie felt warm breath on her neck and a hand on one shoulder. The words whispered in her ear made her shiver. “I love the mocha hot chocolate. Is there any today?”

  Annie smiled. “Of course. Would you like me to fix you some?”

  “Yes, please. You know exactly how I like it,” Jason said before he took a step back, allowing Annie to turn and face him. “How’s everything going this morning?”

  “I suppose it could be worse.”

  “That bad? There aren’t many empty seats this morning. Shouldn’t that make it a good day?”

  Annie handed Jason his mocha hot chocolate with a double dose of whipped cream on top. She lowered her voice. “That’s not the problem; it’s Leona’s guests from the Blackbird who she sent here because they aren’t allowed to leave town. Two left with
out eating, one of which wasn’t a real guest anyway. One is in tears. Another is writing her novel which for all I know, includes all the theories of who murdered the chef. At least there’s one taking it all in stride. And one more I haven’t had a chance to talk to yet.” She indicated Alex sitting at the counter. He tapped his fingers on the counter as he sipped his drink as if he was working something through his mind.

  Jason grinned. “I see an empty stool next to Alex. Maybe I can coax some conversation out of him. You know, man to man.”

  Annie whispered in Jason’s ear, “Don’t tell me you plan to dig for details about the chef’s murder?”

  “That wasn’t my intention at all.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “But if the conversation heads in that direction, well, I certainly won’t stop him.”

  Annie squeezed his hand. “Alex came across as a decent guy who helped Leona with the generator and even washed up the pots and pans last night. He said it was because we took him in when he was stranded in the storm, but there’s something about him I just can’t put my finger on.”

  “Yoo-hoo, Annie?” Connie’s voice rang out in the café. “Did you forget our breakfast croissants?”

  Annie rolled her eyes so only Jason could see. “Duty calls.”

  Jason slowly ambled across the café with his mug and slid onto the stool next to Alex. Annie hurried behind the counter where Greta had the egg and cheese croissant sandwiches waiting. After adding a slice of cantaloupe to each plate, she carried the food to the hungry guests.

  “Here you go. Sorry for the wait,” she said to Connie and Sarah.

  “These look yummy.” Connie slid her coffee cup to the edge of the booth. “How about a refill before you get sidetracked again.”

  “Sure. After I deliver this last croissant to Robin.”

  Connie swiveled her head around. “She’s still here? I thought I saw that stowaway friend of hers slink out. She didn’t leave with him?”

  “No. Robin is still here.” Annie moved to Robin’s booth. “Here you go.”