A Lexy Baker Bakery Mystery Series (10 Titles) - A Lexy Baker Bakery Mystery Series (10 Titles) Part 89
Library

A Lexy Baker Bakery Mystery Series (10 Titles) Part 89

Prudence's cheeks turned crimson. Her nostrils flared. "You know what I think," she said narrowing her eyes and leaning in toward Morgan, "I think you're a witch, just like your great-great-great-grandmother!"

Morgan felt an angry heat course through her veins. There was nothing she hated more than being called a witch. She was a Doctor of Pharmacology with a Master Herbalist's license, not some sort of spell-casting conjurer.

The coffee shop had grown silent. Morgan could feel the crowd staring at her. She leaned forward, looking wrinkled old Prudence Littlefield straight in the eye.

"Well now, I think we know that's not true," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "Because if I was a witch, I'd have turned you into a newt long ago."

Then she pushed her way past the old crone and fled out the coffee shop door.

Fiona Blackmoore stared at the amethyst crystal in front of her wondering how to work it into a pendant. On most days, she could easily figure out exactly how to cut and position the stone, but right now her brain was in a pre-caffeine fog.

Where was Morgan with her latte?

She sighed, looking at her watch. It was ten past eight, Morgan should be here by now, she thought impatiently.

Fiona looked around the small shop, Sticks and Stones, she shared with her sister. An old cottage that had been in the family for generations, it sat at one of the highest points in their town of Noquitt, Maine.

Turning in her chair, she looked out the back window. In between the tree trunks that made up a small patch of woods, she had a bird's eye view of the sparkling, sapphire blue Atlantic Ocean in the distance.

The cottage sat about 500 feet inland at the top of a high cliff that plunged into the Atlantic. If the woods were cleared, like the developers wanted, the view would be even better. But Fiona would have none of that, no matter how much the developers offered them, or how much they needed the money. She and her sisters would never sell the cottage.

She turned away from the window and surveyed the inside of the shop. One side was setup as an apothecary of sorts. Antique slotted shelves loaded with various herbs lined the walls. Dried weeds hung from the rafters and several mortar and pestles stood on the counter, ready for whatever herbal concoctions her sister was hired to make.

On her side sat a variety of gemologist tools and a large assortment of crystals. Three antique oak and glass jewelry cases displayed her creations. Fiona smiled as she looked at them. Since childhood she had been fascinated with rocks and gems so it was no surprise to anyone when she grew up to become a gemologist and jewelry designer, creating jewelry not only for its beauty, but also for its healing properties.

The two sisters vocations suited each other perfectly and they often worked together providing customers with crystal and herbal healing for whatever ailed them.

The jangling of the bell over the door brought her attention to the front of the shop. She breathed a sigh of relief when Morgan burst through the door, her cheeks flushed, holding two steaming paper cups.

"What's the matter?" Fiona held her hand out, accepting the drink gratefully. Peeling back the plastic tab, she inhaled the sweet vanilla scent of the latte.

"I just had a run in with Prudence Littlefield!" Morgan's eyes flashed with anger.

"Oh? I saw her walking down Shore road this morning wearing that god-awful orange sunflower scarf. What was the run-in about this time?" Fiona took the first sip of her latte, closing her eyes and waiting for the caffeine to power her blood stream. She'd had her own run-ins with Pru Littlefield and had learned to take them in stride.

"She was upset about an herbal mix I made for Ed. She called me a witch!"

"What did you make for him?"

"Just some Ginkgo, Ginseng and Horny Goat Weed ... although the latter he said was for Prudence."

Fiona's eyes grew wide. "Aren't those herbs for impotence?"

Morgan shrugged "Well, that's what he wanted."

"No wonder Prudence was mad...although you'd think just being married to her would have caused the impotence."

Morgan burst out laughing. "No kidding. I had to question his sanity when he asked me for it. I thought maybe he had a girlfriend on the side."

Fiona shook her head trying to clear the unwanted images of Ed and Prudence Littlefield together.

"Well, I wouldn't let it ruin my day. You know how she is."

Morgan put her tea on the counter, then turned to her apothecary shelf and picked several herbs out of the slots. "I know, but she always seems to know how to push my buttons. Especially when she calls me a witch."

Fiona grimaced. "Right, well I wish we were witches. Then we could just conjure up some money and not be scrambling to pay the taxes on this shop and the house."

Morgan sat in a tall chair behind the counter and proceeded to measure dried herbs into a mortar.

"I know. I saw Eli Stark in town yesterday and he was pestering me about selling the shop again."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him we'd sell over our dead bodies." Morgan picked up a pestle and started grinding away at the herbs.

Fiona smiled. Eli Stark had been after them for almost a year to sell the small piece of land their shop sat on. He had visions of buying it, along with some adjacent lots in order to develop the area into high end condos.

Even though their parents early deaths had left Fiona, Morgan and their two other sisters property rich but cash poor the four of them agreed they would never sell. Both the small shop and the stately ocean home they lived in had been in the family for generations and they didn't want their generation to be the one that lost them.

The only problem was, although they owned the properties outright, the taxes were astronomical and, on their meager earnings, they were all just scraping by to make ends meet.

All the more reason to get this necklace finished so I can get paid. Thankfully, the caffeine had finally cleared the cobwebs in her head and Fiona was ready to get to work. Staring down at the amethyst, a vision of the perfect shape to cut the stone appeared in her mind. She grabbed her tools and started shaping the stone.

Fiona and Morgan were both lost in their work. They worked silently, the only sounds in the little shop being the scrape of mortar on pestle and the hum of Fiona's gem grinding tool mixed with a few melodic tweets and chirps that floated in from the open window.

Fiona didn't know how long they were working like that when the bell over the shop door chimed again. She figured it must have been an hour or two judging by the fact that the few sips left in the bottom of her latte cup had grown cold.

She smiled, looking up from her work to greet their potential customer, but the smile froze on her face when she saw who it was.

Sheriff Overton stood in the door flanked by two police officers. A toothpick jutted out of the side of Overton's mouth and judging by the looks on all three of their faces, they weren't there to buy herbs or crystals.

Fiona could almost hear her heart beating in the silence as the men stood there, adjusting their eyes to the light and getting their bearings.

"Can we help you?" Morgan asked, stopping her work to wipe her hands on a towel.

Overton's head swiveled in her direction like a hawk spying a rabbit in a field.

"That's her." He nodded to the two uniformed men who approached Morgan hesitantly. Fiona recognized one of the men as Brody Hunter, whose older brother Morgan had dated all through high school. She saw Brody look questioningly at the Sheriff.

The other man stood a head taller than Brody. Fiona noticed his dark hair and broad shoulders but her assessment of him stopped there when she saw him pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

Her heart lurched at the look of panic on her sister's face as the men advanced toward her.

"Just what is this all about?" She demanded, standing up and taking a step toward the Sheriff.

There was no love lost between the Sheriff and Fiona. They'd had a few run-ins and she thought he was an egotistical bore and probably crooked too. He ignored her question focusing his attention on Morgan. The next words out of his mouth chilled Fiona to the core.

"Morgan Blackmoore ... you're under arrest for the murder of Prudence Littlefield."

Click Here To Buy Dead Wrong For Your Kindle!.

Scones, Skulls & Scams.

Leighann Dobbs.

Chapter One.

Lexy Baker-Perillo stared lazily out the floor-to-ceiling window that made up the front wall of her bakery, The Cup and Cake. A sigh escaped her lips as she watched the last leaf drop from the century's old oak tree on the riverbank and float lazily toward the falls, picking up speed until it catapulted over the edge.

Fall was nearing an end. The trees were bare and the air had a chill-a sharp contrast to the palm tree filled Tropical Island where she'd just spent two weeks honeymooning with her hunky homicide detective husband, Jack Perillo.

The honeymoon had been wonderfully romantic and restful, but Lexy was happy to be back home and back into baking and running her business.

Turning, she inspected the front room of the bakery. The glass cases displaying her baked goods gleamed in the sunlight. The self-serve coffee station filled the room with the rich aroma of dark roast. The cafe tables, set up next to the window overlooking the scenic waterfall that gave the town of Brook Ridge Falls its name, were spotlessly clean ... and empty.

While honeymooning, she'd left the running of her bakery in the care of her assistant and best friend, Cassie. Lexy felt a swell of pride her friend had handled everything perfectly with no problems at all.

Well, almost perfectly ... sales had dropped off considerably in her absence, but it didn't have anything to do with Cassie running the shop. Lexy turned back to look out the window. She knew the reason sales had fallen off-she was staring straight at it.

"It" was the new bakery across the street, which had sprung into business while Lexy had been on her honeymoon. When she'd left, the windows in the new bakery had been covered in brown craft paper. A small handwritten sign in the corner had been the only indication a bakery might take up residence. Today, that bakery appeared to be fully stocked and a line of customers filed out the door and into the street.

Surely her baked goods can't be that delicious-could they?

More than likely, the big turnout had more to do with the fifty-percent-off sign in the shop window and the fact the sidewalk leading up to Lexy's bakery had been dug up because of the new sewer lines they were installing. On the other side of the street, the sidewalk leading up to the other bakery were perfectly fine.

Lexy squinted over at the store trying to see inside. It looked to be set up almost identical to The Cup and Cake, with glass displays, cafe tables, and a self-serve coffee station. She'd even chosen a name similar to Lexy's-The Brew and Bake-and had the sign made in the same shape and pink color as Lexy's sign.

Lexy started as a familiar figure appeared in the door of The Brew and Bake.

That couldn't be who she thought it was ... could it?

Lexy sucked in a breath as the door opened to reveal her grandmother Mona Baker, or Nans as Lexy called her, and Nans' three closest friends-Ida, Helen and Ruth. Lexy noticed with dismay that, not only had the traitorous senior citizens been inside the bakery, they were also carrying bakery bags that looked to be loaded with pastries!

Her hands curled into tight fists as she watched them walk across the street, giggling and looking inside each other's bags.

Surely, they weren't bringing pastries from the other bakery over to her shop?

But they were.

Lexy stood, whirling around to face the door as the four women came in.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Lexy demanded.

The women's happy chatter stopped abruptly. They stared at her with puzzled looks.

"Don't get upset dear. We're just going to compare the inferior goods from the other bakery to yours," Nans said as if Lexy should have known that's what they were doing.

"Oh." Lexy felt mollified since Nans had referred to the other bakery's pastries as inferior. She relaxed her stance and unclenched her fists. "Why?"

"We're going to do a taste test and Helen is going to take notes, then write up an article for the Brook Ridge Sentinel detailing the results and how your baked goods taste much better," Nans answered.

"Provided they are better, of course," Ruth added then grimaced as Nans elbowed her in the ribs. "I mean, we know they're better, of course. We just need to prove it."

"Right, so let's get some of the same types of pastries for the taste test." Ida rubbed her hands together and made a beeline for the display cases.

The women rummaged through their bags looking at the items they'd purchased-lemon bars, brownies, eclairs, pound cake, blueberry muffins and cupcakes. They picked out identical items from Lexy's display case and took them to a table, where they spread out some napkins on which they lined up the baked goods.

"Now these are from Lexy." Ruth pointed to the row on the top, "And these are from that other place." The way she said the words that other place, with a hint of disgust made Lexy smile as she pulled a chair up to join the older ladies.

Nans handed out the plates and forks she'd grabbed from the self-serve station. "We'll each take a bite from each one and then discuss the differences like they do on those cooking shows on TV."

Helen pulled open her gigantic beige patent leather purse and rummaged around inside it pulling out various items-a lipstick, tissues, duct tape-until finally producing an iPad, which she plopped on the table in front of her.

"Okay, I'm ready," she said as she reached across the table, her fork slicing off a corner of the brownie from The Brew and Bake.

Lexy held her breath as Helen brought the fork to her mouth. She made exaggerated chewing motions, moving her tongue around in her mouth and licking her lips. Then she wrinkled up her nose and made a big show of swallowing.

"Tastes stale." She sat back and typed something into the iPad.

Lexy let out her breath. The others reached over with their forks taking little pieces of the pastries and putting them on their plates.

"Now let's not mix up which pastry is from which bakery," Nans said as she bit into a piece of lemon square then immediately made a sour face. "This is too tart. Don't you guys think so?"

Ruth nodded. "Let's take a bite of Lexy's to see how it compares."

The three other ladies stabbed their forks into the lemon square from Lexy's bakery case.

"This is much sweeter," Ida said.

The others mumbled their agreement and Helen typed more into the iPad.

"I didn't know you wrote for the paper, Helen." Lexy spent a lot of time with the four women and had never heard her mention it before.

"Oh I don't usually, but I have a special spot this month on account of the town bicentennial. They needed some extra reporters," Helen said. "I used to write a food column there when I was younger."

Lexy had almost forgotten about the town bicentennial with its big parade and festival at the end of the week. She'd entered the famous scone bakeoff with her great-grandmother's recipe-she'd have to make sure it came out absolutely perfect if she wanted to compete with this new baker across the street.