Read Online Dying for a Cupcake by Denise Swanson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Denise Swanson
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couldn’t prepare breakfast, serve it, and clean all the rooms by myself.”
Cody Gomez did odd jobs for Ronni when he wasn’t at college, and had volunteered to find the additional employees the B & B required for the Cupcake Weekend. Our community wasn’t accustomed to needing so many workers. After the crowd at the dime store this afternoon, I just hoped that Dad, Hannah, and I could handle the customers because I doubted there were many jobless teenagers still in town for me to employ.
“Speaking of lunch, is there anything left?” I asked. “The shop was mobbed, so I didn’t get a chance to eat anything and I’m famished.” My stomach rumbled as if to reinforce my last statement.
“Sure.” Ronni jumped to her feet. “Come on into the kitchen and I’ll fix you a plate. It’s all cold stuff, sandwiches, salads, and such. Since we ran out of churches willing to host meals, I had to come up with the food for today’s lunch myself.” She glanced over her shoulder and winked at me. “And none of the kids I hired know how to cook.”
“Anything is fine.” I followed her down the hall and took a seat at the table as she opened the fridge. “It’s got to be better than my usual lunch of PB and J or a carton of Greek yogurt.”
“Oh, it’s good,” Ronni assured me as she fixed me a plate. “I had Chapattis over in Sparkville cater it from their deli department.”
“Yum.” Chapattis was a tiny Italian market located on the outskirts of Shadow Bend’s nearest neighbor. “Another great idea.”
“Yep. I’m full of ’em.” Ronni beamed, then, after pouring us both a glass of iced tea, joined me. “Let’s just hope this baking competition turns out to be one of my good ideas and not one of my harebrained schemes.” She ran her fingertip over the wood of the table. “What’s the word on the street about Fallon’s death?”
“Besides having you feed me, that’s why I came over.” I paused as I bit into a stuffed pepper shooter, moaning as the pickled cherry peppers filled with prosciutto ham wrapped around provolone cheese exploded on my taste buds. Then after swallowing, I told Ronni about the conversation I had overheard at the store. I finished with, “So I wondered if the cops had come to any conclusion about what caused Fallon to die so suddenly?”
“Not that they told me.” Ronni tossed a black olive into her mouth. “Maybe you should give your buddy Chief Kincaid a call.”
“I doubt he’d share information with me unless I had something to trade.” I ate a bite of insalata caprese. After I savored the slices of mozzarella and tomatoes drizzled with extra-virgin olive oil and sprinkled with fresh basil leaves, I added, “You know the only time he’s ever generous with info is when I can give him important facts in exchange.”
“Shoot!” Ronni took a sip of her iced tea. “We really need to know in what direction the police’s investigation is heading so we can nip the rumors in the bud before they scare away all the Cupcake Weekenders.”She paused. “Do you have any other contacts at the cop shop? One of the dispatchers?”
“Nobody I can come up with right this minute.” I briefly considered the woman who had kept Jake up to date on the last case, but Nympho Barbie wouldn’t spill the content of official reports to me. That is, unless I promised to gift wrap the hunky deputy marshal and put him under her Christmas tree, and I wasn’t feeling quite that desperate yet.
“Can Poppy get anyone to talk?” Ronni asked as she spread a thin slice of Italian bread with Brie, fig jam, dried fruits, and pine nuts.
“Well . . .” I hesitated. It was a well-known fact that Poppy and her father didn’t get along, but few people knew how deeply the rift actually ran. “I don’t think she’d be willing to ask her dad for that kind of favor. Their relationship is pretty tense.”
“Oh.” Ronni finished assembling her crostini and brought it to her lips.
Cody Gomez did odd jobs for Ronni when he wasn’t at college, and had volunteered to find the additional employees the B & B required for the Cupcake Weekend. Our community wasn’t accustomed to needing so many workers. After the crowd at the dime store this afternoon, I just hoped that Dad, Hannah, and I could handle the customers because I doubted there were many jobless teenagers still in town for me to employ.
“Speaking of lunch, is there anything left?” I asked. “The shop was mobbed, so I didn’t get a chance to eat anything and I’m famished.” My stomach rumbled as if to reinforce my last statement.
“Sure.” Ronni jumped to her feet. “Come on into the kitchen and I’ll fix you a plate. It’s all cold stuff, sandwiches, salads, and such. Since we ran out of churches willing to host meals, I had to come up with the food for today’s lunch myself.” She glanced over her shoulder and winked at me. “And none of the kids I hired know how to cook.”
“Anything is fine.” I followed her down the hall and took a seat at the table as she opened the fridge. “It’s got to be better than my usual lunch of PB and J or a carton of Greek yogurt.”
“Oh, it’s good,” Ronni assured me as she fixed me a plate. “I had Chapattis over in Sparkville cater it from their deli department.”
“Yum.” Chapattis was a tiny Italian market located on the outskirts of Shadow Bend’s nearest neighbor. “Another great idea.”
“Yep. I’m full of ’em.” Ronni beamed, then, after pouring us both a glass of iced tea, joined me. “Let’s just hope this baking competition turns out to be one of my good ideas and not one of my harebrained schemes.” She ran her fingertip over the wood of the table. “What’s the word on the street about Fallon’s death?”
“Besides having you feed me, that’s why I came over.” I paused as I bit into a stuffed pepper shooter, moaning as the pickled cherry peppers filled with prosciutto ham wrapped around provolone cheese exploded on my taste buds. Then after swallowing, I told Ronni about the conversation I had overheard at the store. I finished with, “So I wondered if the cops had come to any conclusion about what caused Fallon to die so suddenly?”
“Not that they told me.” Ronni tossed a black olive into her mouth. “Maybe you should give your buddy Chief Kincaid a call.”
“I doubt he’d share information with me unless I had something to trade.” I ate a bite of insalata caprese. After I savored the slices of mozzarella and tomatoes drizzled with extra-virgin olive oil and sprinkled with fresh basil leaves, I added, “You know the only time he’s ever generous with info is when I can give him important facts in exchange.”
“Shoot!” Ronni took a sip of her iced tea. “We really need to know in what direction the police’s investigation is heading so we can nip the rumors in the bud before they scare away all the Cupcake Weekenders.”She paused. “Do you have any other contacts at the cop shop? One of the dispatchers?”
“Nobody I can come up with right this minute.” I briefly considered the woman who had kept Jake up to date on the last case, but Nympho Barbie wouldn’t spill the content of official reports to me. That is, unless I promised to gift wrap the hunky deputy marshal and put him under her Christmas tree, and I wasn’t feeling quite that desperate yet.
“Can Poppy get anyone to talk?” Ronni asked as she spread a thin slice of Italian bread with Brie, fig jam, dried fruits, and pine nuts.
“Well . . .” I hesitated. It was a well-known fact that Poppy and her father didn’t get along, but few people knew how deeply the rift actually ran. “I don’t think she’d be willing to ask her dad for that kind of favor. Their relationship is pretty tense.”
“Oh.” Ronni finished assembling her crostini and brought it to her lips.
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