1 Nothing Bundt Murder (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

Music was pouring out of the open window at Babette’s house.

Great. That meant Doug was home.

Well I had no choice. I rang the bell. Then I knocked. Then I tried the knob.

I felt bad just walking inside but Cupcake needed to be fed and Doug obviously was either ignoring the doorbell or couldn’t hear it over the music. So I grabbed the key that was hidden under the planter on the porch and I walked in. As I did, Cupcake came over and rubbed her sleek black body around my ankles, nearly tripping me.

“Hey sweetie,” I said, bending down to pet her. I could feel her warm little body purring under my hand as I stroked her smooth black fur. She seemed to understand that if she didn’t move, there would be no food, so she began sashaying down the hall towards the kitchen.

As
I followed behind her, I smelled cigar smoke coming from the open door to the den.

“I’m here to feed Cupcake, Doug!” I called out before I walked by, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up from his desk and slammed his laptop shut.

“Try the doorbell next time,” he said in greeting.

“I did. Sorry. You didn’t hear me.”

He nodded
, reaching for the beer that was on his desk. He took a sip. “Carry on,” he said, dismissing me.

I went into the kitchen and opened up the can of cat food to the accompaniment of much rubbing and meowing from Cupcake, who was urging me on.

“I’m going as fast as I can, CC,” I said, placing the bowl down on the mat and refilling her water bowl as well.

I watched as she ate happily, then I picked up my purse to
leave, when Doug came into the room.

“Rosie,” he said, leaning against the counter. “I wanted to apologize for earlier. For my behavior in the store.” He shook his head in frustration. “It’s just that she’s so…stubborn. Babette. She won’t even consider selling the store. We can always open another one in a different spot, but the land is worth a mint right now.”

“But…I mean, she loves that store,” I ventured. What could I say? This was none of my business and I didn’t want to get in between Doug and Babette and maybe say something that would make things worse.

“Look, I know you had a cheating boyfriend so you’re probably…overly-sensitive to men acting like jerks. But I love her. I do. She’s just so…frustrating."

I stared down, red-faced. I couldn’t believe Babette had told him something so personal about me. In a way, I guess, it made sense—after all husbands and wives probably shared everything. And I hadn’t actually told her not to tell anyone. But still. I didn’t think I needed to.

Doug got up and went to the fridge and pulled out a casserole. “Well, she may be stubborn, but she sure makes a mean coq au vin. Want a bite?
”

I watched as he scooped out a plateful. “There’s enough for you. And for Babs when she gets home tonight.”

“She isn’t,” I said, eyeing the delicious-smelling food. “She isn’t coming home tonight. She has to make a gluten-free Bundt so she’ll be working all night at the store.”

“
Working—yeah, right,” he said, shaking his head.

I frowned at him, not getting his meaning as he tossed his beer bottle
into the trash and opened another one. He took a sip, still staring at me as he leaned against the counter. “It’s all yours then." He nodded at the casserole dish. "Just give Babs back the container or she’ll go nuts. She loves to have complete sets of everything."

I was about to refuse the offer but then the delicious smell of the braised chicken and mushrooms and garlic seduced me. “Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yeah. Think of it as a peace offering. Goodnight, Rosie.”

I watched as Doug took his plate of food in one hand and his beer in the other and headed back to the den.

CHAPTER FOUR

At Nana’s condo, I took a quick nibble of the Coq au vin, then placed it into the stainless steel refrigerator. Then I pulled a pretty serving plate out of the cupboard and arranged the assortment of mini Bundts I’d brought home from the store.

“Nana, I’m home! With cake!” I called out, walking into the living room with the
plate.

“We’re in here doll,” she called out. “I hope you brought enough for Birdie too!”

“I sure did,” I said, putting the serving plate down gently on the glass coffee table. Then I hurried back to pour three glasses of cold milk and handed them out to the ladies. I gave my Nana kiss on the cheek, grabbed a triple chocolate chip Bundt off the plate and curled up on the sofa to eat it.

“You’d think that after a full day of working at a Bundt store I’d be sick of the cake. But you would be sooo wrong.” I licked some chocolate off my fingers.

“How’s the job going, sweetie?” Birdie asked. She and my Nana were neighbors in the San Coronado retirement community of Sunrise Palms. They’d met the day my Nana moved in and had become fast friends and partners in crime.

“It’s great. A lot of drama, though,” I gobbled another mouthful of chocolate.

“So I heard,” Nana nodded. “But I don’t like to gossip."

“True, she doesn’t like to gossip,” Birdie nodded knowingly to me. “She loves it!”

“It’s true,” Nana laughed. “I do!" She shook her head and nibbled on a bit of red velvet Bundt.

I smiled and looked at the two ladies. Both had stylishly died hair, Birdie’s was red and Nana’s was blonde. Both wore Capri pants and metallic-colored ballet slipper flats and bot
h had the metabolisms of twenty-year-olds.

It just didn’t seem fair. Here I was, practically a twenty year old (give or take six years) and I had to b
e careful of what I ate and to make sure I exercised daily, while they, it seemed, could eat whatever they wanted.  

“So what’d you hear?” Birdie asked, motioning for Nana to spill the beans.

“Well, as you know,” Nana said in an authoritative tone. “Babette’s husband Doug’s has been cheating on her with Dahlia Wiggins, who is apparently, pushing him to divorce Babette and marry her.”

I looked at Nana shocked. Of course I was relatively new in town but I hadn’t heard any of that. It only made me dislike Doug even more.

“Everyone knows that. That’s old news,” Birdie said with a wave of her manicured hand.

“I know,” Nana continued. “But did you know that Doug thinks that Babette has been cheating on him as well?"

“No!” Birdie picked up her glass of milk and dunked a bit of cake.

“How do you know this stuff?” I asked, frowning. “I mean, where’d you even hear it?”

“Barney’s son Victor, the one that own that electronics store down near the new Whole Foods? He said that Doug was trying to catch Babette in the act. So to speak.”

I nodded realizing that might be what Doug had been alluding to earlier. When I’d told him Babette was working late at the store, he said, “Ha, we’ll see about that,” or something to that effect. I realized he must have hired someone to watch or follow her.

I looked up and took a sip of my milk, then realized that both ladies were looking at me with interest. They were obviously hoping that I might have some info to add to this gossip-fest. I loved my Nana and Birdie, but that wasn’t going to happen.

“Well, Doug might suspect her,” I said. “But the only thing Babette cares about is her store, her cakes and her cat.” I nodded with finality, hoping to put an end to any more speculation on the subject.

Ha, good luck with that.

I yawned, suddenly feeling exhausted. Thanks to the crazy Friday afternoon store rush followed by the yummy sugar rush, I felt like I was moving in slow motion.

“Honey, you look tired. Go take a nap,” Nana said.

“I’m going to,” I said, standing up. “I am pretty beat. But I was thinking that after, maybe we could all watch a Netflix movie together. Something romantic and weepy?”

“Oh, honey, absolutely not,” Nana scolded. “It’s Friday night. It’s no time to sit at home watching movies about romance. It’s time to go out and get some romance. Friday night is date night.”

“I know,” I nodded
. And for some puzzling reason my mind flashed to Casey and his gorgeous green eyes but I quickly pushed the thought away. “But I don’t have a date.”

“Oh. But we do,” Nana said, as she and Birdie looked at me, bobbing their heads in agreement. “We have a double date. Two handsome brothers that we met at the Palmas Theater showing of that lousy French movie, what was it called?”

“Volourie la val…” Birdie said.

“No. It was Vielle Lasur…something…” Nana corrected.

“Okay, you girls have fun,” I said, making my exit as quickly as possible in order to avoid the argument Nana and Birdie were sure to have over name of the movie.

I happened to know it was called,
En Vouloir à Quelqu'un,
but why tell them and spoil their fun? I knew from experience that besides playing bridge, going to their movie club and their gourmet cooking club and their book group—Nana and Birdie’s favorite pastime was arguing over the names of things.

I yawned again, quickly retrieved Babette’s homemade Coq au vin from the fridge, then I  walked out back door and across the patio to the small, cozy, one bedroom/one bath casita where I’d been living all summer. Soon of course, I’d have to decide where to go and what to do with my life, but for now it was perfect place for me to figure things out. And
to escape from reality.

I opened the door and walked into the chilled, clean, off white living room. I put the Coq au Vin down on the granite countertop that separated the small but pretty kitchen from the living/ dining area. Then I kicked off my shoes and plopped down on the overstuffed, white couch. My elbow knocked into something hard in my sweater pocket and I realized it was my cell phone. I pulled it out and was about to put it on the coffee table, when I stared at it, frowning.

The time read 7:00 pm which meant that it was 10:00 pm in New York right now. If I were back there, Kevin and I would probably be coming out of a movie and maybe strolling along the street and stopping in for a frozen yogurt or an ice cream.

Though we didn’t have the most exciting life together, I’d been happy in it for over a year. Kevin, on the other hand, clearly had a higher excitement quota and seemed to think that the best way to fill it was by sleeping with a friend/co-worker of mine at the free paper where I worked.

Well, if he wanted fireworks, he sure sure got them. When I found out about them, through a text that I’d mistakenly read on his phone, I blew up. Then I stormed out. I came out to Nana’s place to heal my broken heart and figure out what to do with my life.

And though part of me really, really hated him, another part just couldn’t let go and move on. I had vowed never to call him, ever again, but I constantly found myself having second thoughts. And third ones.

Thinking about it now I realized that maybe what I needed was
more
contact not less. To get closure. And then, if he happened to beg me to come back to him, well then…

No! My inner voice screamed at me. You took a vow! No more cheaters!

“But…closure,” I said aloud to myself in a voice that didn’t even convince me.  I opened my contact list anyway, and scrolled down to his name, staring at it for a full minute as I tried to resist dialing. “Oh what do I do? Do I call Kevin? Do I not call him?” I said out loud to myself. And then as if answered by some higher power—Verizon probably—the phone started dialing Kevin.

I gasped, panicking. Do I hang up? Do I wait and see what happens?

Yes, I’d taken a vow but this was really out of my hands. Literally. My phone had made the decision for me. Could I help it if the voice-dialer app I’d recently installed on my smart phone had reacted to the words I’d spoken aloud: “call Kevin” and had interpreted them as a voice command? No, I couldn’t.

I heard the click of someone answering. But no one spoke.

“Hello?” I said softly.

“Kevin’s phone,” a female voice answered. “Who’s this?”

I quickly hit the ‘end call’ button and pushed the phone as far away from me as I could on the coffee table.

Okay, that had been a big mistake. Now Kevin would think I was a stalker. A dateless stalker on a Friday night. I groaned to myself and buried my head under the couch pillow, then I fell asleep
.

***

I
woke up an hour later, feeling miserable and hung-over, which was weird since I hadn’t had anything to drink. It was probably a shame-hangover from having called Kevin. I re-vowed never to call him again and in fact, never to think about him again, then I went into the kitchen to get some food.

I warmed up the Coq au vin. Then I poured myself a glass of red wine and sat at the dining table to eat, ‘like a lady,’ as Nana would say.
I practically swooned as I took the first bite. Babette truly was an amazing cook.

But a
s I ate, my mind, of course, kept drifting back to Kevin. I forced myself to think about other things. Doug, for instance—and what Nana had said about him. Could he really believe that Babette was cheating on him? And did he possibly have a real reason to believe it?

I didn’t think so. No matter what a jerk he was, Babette seeme
d to still be in love with him.

But as to Doug cheating with Dahlia Wiggins— that part was very believable. And very concerning. Especially since she was the one that had hired us to cater the bridal shower the next day.

I just couldn’t imagine that Babette knew anything about the rumors, or she wouldn’t have agreed to cater the event. Would she have?