Death by the Dozen (16 page)

“Hey, this is supposed to be fun,” Mel reminded her.

“It was until I slid down the board,” Polly said. With a wave, she took off, striding through the tourists.

“So, now what?” Angie asked.

“Now we go back and see how Tony and Oz are doing,” Mel said.

They left the mall, crossing Brown Avenue into Old Town Scottsdale. They passed Mick at the tattoo parlor and Christine at the salon, both of whom looked busy with customers. When they arrived at the bakery, the patio tables outside were full of people chomping cupcakes, and there was a line going out the door.

“This can’t be good,” Mel said. “Why are there so many people here when the festival is going on down the street?”

They picked up their pace and hurried to the entrance. No one would budge from their spot in line, however, even with Angie glowering at them, so they had to circle the building and enter through the kitchen door in the back.

The kitchen was as immaculate as they’d left it. But Mel could hear the sound of music coming from the bakery. She strode forward and pushed through the swinging doors.

A large jukebox now sat at the end of the room, and Elvis’s voice was being emitted through its speakers, adding a lively vibe to the place. Oz was manning the counter, and two of Angie’s brothers, Al and Tony, were waiting and bussing tables.

Mel scanned the crowd. It was a solid mix of tourist families, kids just out of school, and seniors. It was actually hard to hear Elvis over the laughter and chatter that filled the room.

“Oz,” she called, but he was busy taking an order and didn’t hear her.

“Oz!” Angie’s bark was louder, and he turned to see who was calling him.

“Hey!” he called. “How did it go? How did you do?”

“Not as good as this,” Mel said. She grabbed an apron and tied it on. It was obviously a time for all hands on deck.

“I know, this is crazy, right?” Oz asked.

“Where did the jukebox come from?” she asked.

“Yeah, well, it was dead in here this morning, so me and Tony got to talking and decided you needed some tunes to liven up the joint,” he said. “I mean you’re all fifties decor, but you have no music. That’s just wrong.”

“Let me get this straight,” Angie said as she tied on an apron as well. “My brothers and you thought a jukebox would draw people in, and you were right?”

Oz opened his arms wide. “Check the evidence.”

Mel looked at Angie. “How could we have missed that?”

“We were sort of busy making cupcakes,” Angie said. “You know, product.”

“Where did the jukebox come from?” Mel asked. “Or more accurately, who do I owe and how much?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Oz said. “I’m just the idea man. Tony actually hooked us up with one. He knows a guy.”

“I hate it when ‘they know a guy,’” Angie said. “That’s how I got my first bike, my first computer, you name it. It always has some mysterious point of origin, like it fell off the back of a truck somewhere.”

“Well, since I’m dating the assistant DA, we’ll have to make sure it’s legit,” Mel said. “Let’s get this crowd served, and then we’ll pry the info out of Tony.”

They set to work boxing up four-packs and twelve-packs and single servings. Mel and Angie grooved to the jukebox, but the best music was the ring of the cash register every time it opened. Success sounded sweet indeed.

When Angie flipped the sign on the door and turned the dead bolt for the night, Tony shut off the jukebox, and they all trooped into the kitchen for a restorative cupcake and a glass of cold milk.

Tony crossed his arms on the steel table top and rested his head. “Is it always this busy?”

“No,” Mel and Angie said together.

“It was the King,” Oz said. “He brings them in.”

Mel couldn’t argue, since the King had crooned the day away and the people had kept coming and coming.

“How much for the jukebox?” Mel asked.

“Consider it a gift,” Tony said.

Mel glanced at Angie, who shrugged.

“It’ll pay for all of the cupcakes he mooches,” Angie said as she gave Tony a second Caramel Crunch Cupcake. It was one of Mel’s newest experiments, a buttery cupcake frosted with vanilla buttercream drizzled with melted caramel and sprinkled with candied pecans. Tony’s eyes glazed as he took in the treat before him.

“I can get you anything you need,” he promised before tucking into the luscious little cake.

“Oh, Angie, a package arrived for you,” Al said. “I signed for it and put it in the office.”

Angie gave him a quizzical look and disappeared into the office. Mel could hear her grunt as she ripped open the box. There was silence for a moment, and then she heard Angie say, “Aw.”

Curious, Mel went to the door to find Angie cradling a wooden cuckoo clock in her arms and clutching a note.

“It says, ‘I’m cuckoo about you,’” Angie said. “Isn’t that sweet?”

“It’s something,” Mel said. “So I take it you’ve been hearing from Roach more regularly?”

“Every day,” Angie gushed. “He felt really badly that I was worried, but he was having some band issues.”

Noting the bliss on her face, Mel couldn’t deny Angie her happiness. Tate obviously wasn’t doing anything to forward his cause, so how could Mel hope that Angie would choose him when he wouldn’t even get himself in the running?

When the brothers had eaten their fill and trooped out, Angie and Mel set to work replenishing the edible stock. Tinkerbells, Death by Chocolates, and Blonde Bombshells were needed, as well as Kiss Me Cupcakes and Orange Dreamsicles.

It took several hours, and by the time they had frosted the last batch and put them in the walk-in cooler, Mel was pie-eyed tired and Angie didn’t look much better.

They said good night with a hug at the foot of the stairs that led up to Mel’s apartment. Angie, carrying her cuckoo clock, turned to cross the alley to the parking lot beyond when a cry ripped through the quiet evening, making the hair on the back of Mel’s neck stand up.

“What was that?” Angie asked as she spun back around.

“It sounded like someone being stabbed.”

“Where did it come from?”

“The Dumpster,” Mel said.

They both hesitated. The piercing howl sounded again.

“I am going to be so unhappy if there is somebody in there,” Angie said.

“No one is in there,” Mel said. “Still, we should check it.”

They eased their way toward the large metal box. It smelled like most Dumpsters, a rank combination of decaying food and sour milk.

Angie put her clock down, and they each grabbed a corner of the lid.

“On three?” Angie asked and Mel nodded.

“One, two, three.” Together they flung open the heavy metal lid and jumped back.

A streetlight illuminated the inside of the Dumpster. The trash had been picked up the day before so the bin was empty except for the smell, which was strong enough to take a corporeal form, and a few pink boxes of cupcakes that had been too old to be donated to the local shelter.

A scuttling sound came from beneath the boxes and they both jumped back.

“It’s probably a rat,” Angie said. “A rat with rabies.”

“Let’s just be sure,” Mel said. “I’m going to get my flashlight.”

“No need.” Angie scrambled for her keys, where she had a penlight on her key ring. She pressed a button and a weak light shone into the Dumpster.

At first there was no movement. Then a tail appeared. It was a white tail with a black tip.

“That’s no rat tail.”

They leaned over the edge, trying to get a closer look. White haunches followed the tail and then a white back. Whatever it was, it was trying to drag something out of one of their tossed-out cupcake boxes. Shoulders appeared, followed by a head sporting the biggest ears Mel had ever seen. With a great, growling grunt, the animal braced its legs and pulled.

And just like that, a tiny white kitten went rolling back, feet over ears, while the chocolate and vanilla cupcake it had been trying to get sailed over its head and hit the side of the bin with a splat and then sank to the bottom with a thud.

The kitten glared up in the direction of the light and blinked as if it was their fault that it had lost its cupcake.

“Oh, my,” Angie said. “He’s so tiny.”

Mel glanced down at the little scrap of fur. He was pure white except for one spot of black fur that circled his right eye and the black tip of his tail.

“He looks like a pirate wearing an eye patch,” she said.

“I’m surprised he wasn’t going for your rum cupcakes,” Angie agreed with a laugh.

“What are you doing in there, silly?” Mel asked him, but he just ignored her and licked his chest fur. “I’m going to try to fish him out.”

“Better you than me,” Angie said. She waved her hand in front of her nose. “I’ll hold the light.”

“Here, little fella,” Mel spoke softly as she hoisted herself up on the edge of the bin. She had been afraid he’d scamper away, but no. He looked merely impatient as if wondering how long exactly it was going to take her to get him out of his predicament.

Mel leaned forward and stretched out her hands. She tried to ignore the metal digging into her hips and the stench that assaulted her nose.

The kitten stretched up to meet her, for which Mel was grateful. She scooped him up with one hand and clutched him close to her chest as she rose back out of the bin and pushed off the edge, landing on unsteady feet.

The kitten was purring loudly, and he rubbed his head against her. She bent forward to put him on the ground, and he hooked his little claws into her shirt and dangled. Mel straightened back up and tried to unhook him.

“Uh-oh,” Angie said. “Looks like he likes you.”

“No,” Mel said. She cradled him in her hands. “He’s just hoping I have some food on me.” She looked at the fur ball and said, “I don’t.”

She tried to put him down again, but he was having none of it.

“Listen, buster,” she said. She tried to sound stern, but he just purred louder.

“He’s clinging to you like a barnacle, aren’t you, Captain Jack?” Angie asked. She reached out and rubbed under his chin, causing him to purr even louder.

“Excuse me?” Mel asked.

“You know,
Pirates of the Caribbean
, Captain Jack Sparrow,” Angie said. “You did say he looks like a pirate.”

“Captain Jack doesn’t have an eye patch,” Mel said.

“No, but the way this little guy was taking on a cupcake bigger than him, he has the same devil-may-care charm, don’t you, Captain Jack?” Angie asked as she rubbed his little head. He purred and stretched out for more.

“Do not name him,” Mel said. “Someone is probably desperate to find him. I’m sure he belongs to someone.”

“He looks skinny and he has no collar,” Angie said. “I’m thinking he’s been abandoned.”

Mel looked at the pitiful ball of fluff in her hands. He couldn’t weigh more than three pounds, and he looked to be only a few months old. How could someone have abandoned him?

“Well, I’ll take care of him tonight, and tomorrow after the competition we can hang up some signs and see if anyone claims him.”

“Okeydokey,” Angie said. “Good night, Captain Jack.”

“And stop calling him that,” Mel called after her.

Angie kept walking, completely ignoring her.

“Come on,” Mel said. “But don’t get any ideas. I want to be clear that this is just for tonight.”

She unlocked her apartment, and this time the kitten let her put him down. She went to the pantry and foraged until she found a can of tuna. Then she put half of the can into a bowl and filled another bowl with fresh water. She placed the bowls in an unused corner of her small kitchen and watched as Captain Jack, er, rather as the cat chowed down with a hunger that appeared insatiable. Finally, when he had all but licked the painted flowers off the bowl, he drank some water and flopped down on the floor and began to groom.

“Make yourself at home,” Mel said. “But only for tonight.”

She found a long rectangular Tupperware tub and shredded some scrap paper. It was a makeshift litter box at best, but it would do until she could pick up the real deal tomorrow. Next, she found a fleecy blanket and folded it into a bed for him. She put it on the floor by her futon. As she turned out the light and slumped into the mattress, relieved to finally call an end to this day, she felt gentle tugs on her blanket and was not at all surprised that Captain Jack had managed to climb up onto her bed. He gave a jaw-popping yawn and kneaded the covers until they were just to his liking, and then he promptly fell asleep beside her.

Mel wondered how Joe felt about cats but then pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter because Captain Jack was not staying.

Mel woke up to find Captain Jack had wound himself into a tight ball and nestled himself right under her chin. His purr was a calming noise, and she stroked his fur and marveled at how soft he was.