Murder is a Piece of Cake (Baker Street Mystery #2)

by Valerie Burns

“Hey, wake up.” I shook him awake. “If I lose this bet, it impacts more than just me. It’ll impact you too.” I hugged him. “I should never have made that bet. If I lose, I’ll have to move. I don’t think I can keep you. It’s in Aunt Octavia’s will.”

My relief at hearing that Leroy was okay was short-lived. Clayton Davenport was an evil man, and his death certainly solved a lot of problems. The look on my friend’s face reminded me that it also opened up a lot more problems.

“Don’t put down women in the Ice Age,” Hannah said. “My grandmother told me women have been the same ever since the Good Lord put them on this earth. They had to hunt, gather, cook, clean, and give birth, just like today. Those Ice Age women wasn’t no different than you and me.”

“I found out who Sybil Castleton was meeting at the wine tasting.” “Who?” “Trooper Bob.”

“And me,” Fiona said. “I want to help too. I’ve let him down so many times in the past, I don’t want to do that again.” She wept. April reached across and patted her hand. “Mrs. Danielson, I’m sure you were a great mother.” “No. I wasn’t. Didn’t he tell you? I’m the reason he went to jail the last time.”

She paused so long I didn’t think she was going to answer. Eventually, she sighed. “I thought the worst thing he could do to me was to leave me a rattlesnake or a pile of poop. By leaving me real estate and an ammolite mine, he’s left me with the one thing I didn’t have before—a good motive for murder.”

I intended to find the real killer and get Leroy out of jail. I needed Leroy. Not just because he was my master baker. Leroy was my friend. No. That’s not right either. Leroy was my family. He was more like a brother. Family was a strange concept for me. Prior to moving to New Bison, I hadn’t given it much thought. My mom was dead, so it was just the Admiral and me. Since moving here, my blood relations hadn’t changed, but the people I loved, the ones who I would give a kidney to, or fight to the bitter end to protect, had grown significantly larger.

She closed the door and glared. “Why are you here?” Why am I here? I’m here to get information. Marjorie’s behavior was extreme. Ideas tumbled around in my brain like a clothes dryer. Eventually, a thought came to mind, and I blurted it out before I had time to think. “I’m here to find out who you really are.” Marjorie’s brave facade slid to the ground, and I found myself staring into the eyes of a terrified stranger.

“Look”—she turned toward me—“like I said, I wasn’t part of his inner circle, but I know he blamed you and someone named Octavia for filling April’s head with feminist nonsense. Octavia was dead, so that just left you.”

The Admiral was apologetic. He didn’t mean to make me feel bad. He loved me. Blah. Blah. Blah. I truly believed that my dad cared about me. He just wasn’t equipped to express himself.

“I should have drowned that mutt when he was born instead of just tossing him in Lake Michigan.”