The Diva Frosts a Cupcake (18 page)

Just as I was leaving the house, Humphrey tapped on the kitchen window. I unlocked the door and let him in.

“I’ve been suspended from work.”

“Oh, Humphrey! I’m so sorry. You expected that, didn’t you?”

He slumped into one of the chairs next to my fireplace. “I don’t understand how this could be happening. My name has been befouled, blackened. I am disgraced.”

I looked at my watch. Why was he doing this now when I had an appointment?

The knocker on the front door sounded. It had better be a package, I thought, because I didn’t have time for anything else.

I opened the door to find Natasha and Martha. They wore matching robin’s-egg blue outfits.

Natasha held out the end of Martha’s leash as though she expected me to take it. “You have to babysit Martha for me. Leon is at a dental appointment, and Mars had a snit and a half when he saw what she did to his home office yesterday.” She thrust a sparkly ball toward me with the other hand. “Well, take them. I’m in a hurry!”

“I have an appointment, and she’s not my dog. She’s your responsibility.”

I started to close the door, but Natasha stuck her foot in the opening. “I take care of Daisy.”

“No, you don’t. You lock her in Mars’s office.”

“Sophie! I’m in a pinch. Can’t you just do this for me?”

“Look at me, Natasha. I’m dressed for a meeting.”

She frowned at me. “With you it’s so hard to tell.”

Humphrey dragged up beside me. “I’ll watch her. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

She handed Martha over. While she was warning him about Martha’s habits, I shouted good-bye and took off.

Fortunately, Marilee Goldenbaum didn’t live far away. I made it with one minute to spare. She answered the door and ushered me into a gracious living room where a group of woman waited expectantly. Pale oriental rugs covered gleaming hardwood floors. The walls were the color of coffee diluted with cream. Heavy white molding surrounded the windows. The furniture wore delicate lime and ecru with an occasional spot of peach for a punch of color. A huge painting over the fireplace carried on the peach color and was flanked by two topiaries.

“I thought we would start by talking about our plans for the gala, then we’ll go into the dining room for lunch. I believe everyone knows Sophie Winston?” she said.

A chorus of voices said hello to me.

“Have you discussed a theme?” I asked.

Shirley Morgan, a blonde with bangs and upswept hair, spoke, gliding her hands through the air. “I envision a winter wonderland theme. Wouldn’t white, blue, and silver make a fabulous backdrop for the silent auction?”

I heard a couple of groans but also saw some nods.

A hand went up. “A point of order first, please.” Clarissa Osbourne rose and walked toward the sofa.

I hadn’t noticed her in the back corner. My heart thudded.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Dear Sophie,

When I was growing up, we used to give our dog a few grapes when we were eating them. My sister-in-law, who is an annoying know-it-all, says grapes are very, very bad for dogs. Is she pulling my leg?

—Worried in Grapevine, California

Dear Worried,

I’m afraid the know-it-all is correct. Grapes and raisins are known to cause renal failure in dogs. If your dog should accidentally eat grapes or raisins, contact your veterinarian immediately.

—Sophie

There was no telling what Clarissa might say.

She held her head high. “I believe the rest of you will be in agreement that it would be distasteful to hire someone who is having an affair with one of our husbands.”

A murmur rose in the room. I wanted to drop right through the beautiful floors. Summoning courage, I forced a broad smile. “I fully agree that it would be tasteless to hire such a person. Fortunately, that’s not the case with me. Any other ideas about themes?”

“Not so fast, you little strumpet,” said Clarissa. “Sophie is sleeping with my Spenser.”

There were surprisingly few gasps. “That’s simply not true. I don’t know why you won’t believe me. I’ve never had any kind of relationship with Spenser at all.”

“Sophie, don’t embarrass yourself by trying to deny it.”

I looked around at the faces. “This is how ugly rumors get started. Someone makes a claim and then other people repeat it. I can’t do anything more than tell you that I’m
not
involved with Spenser.”

Under her breath, Clarissa hissed at me, “I told you I would fight.” I noted that she didn’t scream in public as she had with Spenser. Oh no, she wept with grace, like a bereaved woman. Sniffling, she asked, “Then where is he living? Why doesn’t he come home to me anymore?”

Now the gasps were substantial. The thing was, I had a pretty good idea where he might be living, since I’d seen him at that hotel. Of course, I didn’t know who else might be shacking up in the room with him. I debated for a split second, but decided not to mention it. Spenser was a nice guy and, except for Clarissa’s groundless accusations, their problems had nothing to do with me. She could follow him if she wanted to know where he was. I picked up my briefcase, but before I left, I said, loud enough for everyone to hear, in a tone that I hoped was totally without emotion, “Why don’t you ask Spenser where he spends his nights?”

Marilee saw me to the door. “I’ll call you to reschedule. This is the most exciting meeting we’ve ever had! But you know, dear, there’s no point in denying your relationship with Spenser. It’s all over town.”

How could that be? “Where did you hear about it?” I clutched her arm, “And for the record, it’s simply not true.”

“Really? I thought you and Spenser would be a cute couple and now that you’re not with Wolf anymore . . . oh my!” She must have recognized the less-than-thrilled look on my face, because she called Shirley over. “Shirl, where did you hear about Sophie and Spenser?”

Shirley gazed at the ceiling. “Oh, I know. It was at The Laughing Hound. We were in the bar, and Spenser was having a drink with someone across the room. So I said to my girlfriend that if
I
were going to have an affair, it would be with someone like him. And the bartender—the new one, Moe—said to set my sights elsewhere, because Spenser was already involved with Sophie.”

Oh, swell. Just swell.

“Of course I also heard that Clarissa was paying Nick to keep quiet about an affair she had with the general. Can you imagine?” She cackled hysterically. “How do these things get started?”

I thanked them and left, knowing full well that they still believed the rumor and not me. I dragged home, so worn down that if my arms had been a little bit longer my briefcase would have slid along the sidewalk. Clarissa’s lies probably wouldn’t hurt me in the long run. I had enough corporate business to keep me busy. But no one likes to have false rumors floated about her.

I was so immersed in my own little problem that I forgot about Humphrey’s much greater nightmare until I walked into my house. Natasha’s assistant, Leon, sat on the floor of my kitchen with Humphrey, Daisy, and Martha. The rich aroma of French press coffee wafted to me.

“Sophie! You have to see this!” Humphrey wore a grin that could have lit the world.

“I made coffee. Hope you don’t mind,” said Leon.

“Not as long as I can have some.”

“There are cupcakes, too,” he said.

They looked delicious. Creamy chocolate frosting swirled to peaks. “Which bakery did they come from?” Given what we knew about Renee, I wasn’t sure I wanted to eat anything from Sugar Baby.

“I baked them, silly!”

I plucked one off the plate and bit into it. “Salted chocolate with . . . pistachio?”

“Exactly!” Leon beamed at me.

“They’re wonderful,” I said.

“Are you going to pay attention or not?” asked Humphrey.

“Okay, I’m watching.” I felt like a mom with an excited four-year-old.

Humphrey tossed Martha’s glittery ball onto the floor. She scrambled to it as fast as she could, picked it up in her mouth, and kept going, right into the foyer.

Was I supposed to be impressed? I applauded, hoping that was the right thing to do.

Humphrey snorted. “You don’t get it.” He disappeared into the foyer and returned with Martha and the ball. He set her on the floor and tossed the ball again.

Martha tore after it, grabbed it in her mouth, and ran like a little devil. She jumped onto the banquette behind the table and nosed the ball between the cushions.

I held out my palms. “I’m not seeing the beauty of this.”

Leon looked up at me. “She won’t give it back. She always hides it. Sometimes she carries that thing around for hours, but she never gives it back. The only way to get it again is to find where she hid it.”

“Sounds like Natasha. Maybe they’re a good pair after all.”

“She’s the greatest little dog,” gushed Leon. “I’m gaga for her. She’s the best thing about my job.”

“Why are you so excited about this, Humphrey?” I asked.

“Don’t you see it yet? There was one other person in my car right before they found the glittery cupcake.” He pointed at Martha. “She must have found it somewhere and still carried it in her mouth when I caught her and put her in my car.”

Leon grinned. “Then she hid it in the car.”

I was very skeptical. I plucked the ball from between the cushions and tossed it onto the floor. Martha ran after it, grabbed it, and continued into my family room. This time I followed her. She appeared to be looking for a place to stash it. I picked her up and tried to take it out of her mouth. She growled and bared her teeth at me.

“Told you,” said Leon. “No one can get it from her. Not until she decides to hide it.”

“I have to admit that Martha’s little quirk does cast a teensy bit of doubt that Renee was the one who lost it in your car. But wouldn’t you have noticed that she had something in her mouth when you picked her up?”

“It was dark! I didn’t examine her when I caught her. I put her in my car and drove like the wind to get her to the vet.”

We returned to the kitchen, and I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Let’s say your theory is correct about Martha grabbing the golden cupcake like her ball and hiding it in Humphrey’s car. Where did she get it?”

In unison they said, “At the cupcake gala.”

I leaned against the counter, holding my coffee mug with both hands. “That narrows it down to a couple hundred people.”

“Ouch!” Leon touched his shoulder and made a sizzling sound. “What got into you?”

“I’m sorry. I had a bad morning. Don’t mind me.” I needed to put Clarissa and her ridiculous accusations behind me and concentrate on Humphrey. His problem was very serious and would impact his life and career. “Why would anyone bring the stolen cupcake to the dinner? The thief would be a dolt to do that.”

“Crooks aren’t always the brightest bulbs.” Leon picked up Martha. “I’d better get back to Natasha’s. She’s on to a new concept for fame and fortune.”

“What is it now—gourmet dog dinners?”

“I don’t dare breathe a word. She has issued death threats for less.” Leon waved and let himself out.

Humphrey tapped his fingertips together as though deep in thought. “Who at the cupcake gala would have had a reason to steal from Spenser?”

“His inner circle. His employees and previous employees, which, by the way, brings Renee into the picture again.”

“How about Maurice?”

“I still don’t know what happened between him and Spenser.”

“I bet Renee knows.”

How stupid of me. “I bet she does, too.” Why hadn’t I thought of that? “Walk over there with me?” He nodded, and I dashed upstairs to change into Keds, which were far superior to heels for walking on the brick sidewalks.

I apologized to Daisy for leaving her at home, fed Mochie shredded chicken, and we were out the door.

Before we went into Sugar Baby, Humphrey nudged me and motioned toward Sugar Mama.

The open sign hung in the door, and Joy waved to us from the other side of the glass window.

“She’s open again? She was so depressed last night.”

Humphrey nodded. “Myra has a way with people.”

I tried to read his expression. “So how was it with the two of them?”

“It was fun! Like a slumber party.”

I still wasn’t getting a handle on his feelings toward Myra.

He opened the door to Sugar Baby and held it for me.

Renee rushed at Humphrey. “I’m so glad to see you!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. “I hoped you would swing by last night. Then this morning, I called the mortuary, and they said you weren’t coming in. I’ve been so worried.”

Her concern seemed genuine. She brushed a hair off his shirt. “Where have you been? I see a fine, blond woman’s hair.”

Humphrey laughed. “That’s from Martha—” He milked the moment. “—a Chihuahua.”

She giggled, clearly relieved.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked. “We were wondering why Maurice hates Spenser so much.”

“Oh. That.” She motioned to a table, and we sat down. “I don’t know if Maurice will ever get over it. His wife, Colleen, worked for Spenser at Cake My Day. She was so talented. She had great ideas for cupcakes and was innovative about decorating them. Anyway, she and Maurice got the notion that she was wasting her talent at Cake My Day. They thought they could make a lot more money if they did what Spenser did. So Colleen left to open her own cupcakery with the idea of parlaying it into a chain of bakeries.”

“Where was the cupcakery?” I asked.

Renee smiled wryly. “Right across the street from Cake My Day. We saw what happened there on a daily basis. First they leased a space that was three times the size they needed. Then they put a small fortune into upscale décor. Very modern and sleek with fancy imported fixtures. It was beautiful but just not necessary, you know? They could have set up a darling place for one-tenth the money they spent. Then Maurice quit his job to become the brains behind the chain, sort of like Spenser is, except for one thing—he didn’t have Spenser’s genius for business, and he wasn’t a baker. So they’d sunk all that money into location number one, and before they’d even opened their doors, they rented and starting renovating location number two.”

“That’s awfully bold,” said Humphrey.

“Stupid, too. Cupcakes are a good business, but you have to work up from the bottom. They hired a really nice guy to help bake at the first location, planning to eventually make him the primary baker at the second location. But they were low on money,” she sighed, “so they mortgaged their house.”

“Oh no.” I could see what was coming.

“Spenser warned them to take it slow, but Maurice resented Spenser for that and told him to butt out. Spenser couldn’t believe how much money they sank into their upscale cupcakeries. They lost their house, of course. But it gets worse. Both the cupcakery locations closed, and Colleen ran off with the baker they’d hired.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Spenser didn’t do anything to them. They made their own problems.”

“It’s such a shame that Maurice turned on Spenser like he did. Spenser did his best to help them out. He took over the lease on the second location, and there were rumors that he loaned them money, too. As near as I can figure, Maurice needed to blame someone, and he picked Spenser. Probably out of jealousy, since Spenser had accomplished what they couldn’t achieve.” She held up her hand and ticked her fingers as she spoke. “Maurice lost his wife, his business, his house—there wasn’t anything left but anger. Meanwhile, Spenser has been expanding Cake My Day and everything in his life seems perfect.”

Obviously things were not perfect in Spenser’s life. I didn’t know if he was really having an affair with someone, but Clarissa’s screaming fits certainly didn’t fit the definition of a perfect life. She put on a good show of playing the wealthy socialite, though. To people who didn’t know them well, they gave the impression of having it all. “Where did Maurice get the money to buy the house he lives in?”

“He doesn’t own it. He lives there rent-free because he manages a bunch of rental properties for the owner. I think it’s part of his compensation.”

Once again I found myself feeling a smidgen of compassion toward Maurice. I’d been grumpy after one bad meeting. What if I’d lost everything? It would be hard to put on a cheerful face every day. Maurice’s thinking seemed to be warped as a result of his disappointment. He’d wanted Buddy because Spenser had indicated an interest in the dog. Was Maurice so confused that he thought he was also entitled to the fruits of Spenser’s success? Could he have burglarized Spenser’s home?

“Maurice wasn’t all that bad looking, either,” said Renee. “If he got a decent haircut and didn’t have that horrible stringy white hair hanging in his face, you wouldn’t even recognize him.”

Renee tilted her head coyly at Humphrey. Once again I found myself wondering what her game was with Humphrey. On the one hand, I wanted to like the sweet little blonde who baked such cute cupcakes. On the other hand, while I hated to admit it to myself, I didn’t trust her completely. How could I ask her about the gold cupcake?