Caught bread handed, p.1
Caught Bread-Handed, page 1
Caught Bread-Handed
A Culinary Cozy Mystery Series
Twin Berry Bakery
Book Ten
Wendy Meadows
Copyright © 2022 by Wendy Meadows
All rights reserved.
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
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Majestic Owl Publishing LLC
P.O. Box 997
Newport, NH 03773
Created with Vellum
Author’s Note
Hi reader! Thanks for grabbing my book. I hope you enjoy the twins, Rita and Rhonda, on their sleuthing adventures. :)
If you’re ready to grab more books in the series, you can click below to view them all. :)
Twin Berry Bakery Cozy Mystery Series
Oh, be sure to join my newsletter to stay up-to-date with new releases and other tidbits.
https://wendymeadows.com/tb/
Happy reading,
Wendy Meadows
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
More from Wendy
About Wendy Meadows
Chapter One
“Circus?” Rita asked as she stared into a wide, happy, excited face that was consumed with laughing clowns, dancing elephants, daring acrobats, and bored employees yelling, “Peanuts! Get your peanuts right here!”
“Billy, I don’t know…” she said.
Billy could barely believe his ears. How in the world could a person not love the circus? The smell of hay, peanuts, and cotton candy? The sounds of animals, silly clowns, and cheering crowds? The sights of people swinging through the air over elephants, tigers—not to mention a man being shot out of a cannon? And everything under the old red and white big top tent creating an atmosphere that just tickled the heart pink.
“You don't like the circus?”
Rita pretended to fiddle with the old-fashioned cash register sitting on the bakery's front wooden counter. Where was Rhonda when she needed help?
“I…uh, I may be busy. The Pumpkin Festival isn’t too far away, you know? Lots of work to be done.”
“Lots of work?” Billy glanced around a bakery decorated like a beautiful, cozy, crisp autumn day. Rows of orange, brown, and red wooden shelves holding pies, cupcakes, and cakes complemented the interior. It was clear that Rita and Rhonda had put in a lot of work and some mighty long hours, but as far as Billy could see, all the work was finished. Besides, there wasn't a customer in sight.
“Uh, what work?”
“Oh, lots of work,” Rita promised, feeling a bit silly. There she stood, a grown woman who had spent twenty years working as a cop acting like a silly child. Why couldn't she just tell Billy that she hated clowns?
“Lots and lots of work.”
Billy rubbed his chin and made a confused face. “What work?” he asked again. “Last time Old Billy checked, you and Rhonda done finished preparing for the Pumpkin Festival. If my memory serves me correctly, two nights ago when you and Rhonda came over for supper, you both were mighty happy that you’d finished getting all fancied up for the festival, remember?”
“I remember.” Rita winced, glanced down at the soft orange and brown autumn dress she was wearing, and then simply sighed. “A new dress and all Billy talks about is the circus. Love, isn't it grand?”
“What?” Billy asked.
Rita raised her head and looked at her husband-to-be, who was wearing his same old overalls and old baseball cap. Billy's sweet, silly face had a few smudges of tractor oil on it. His large hands were stained with grease.
“Oh, nothing,” she said and forced a smile to her beautiful face. “I say, did you get your tractor fixed?” she asked, hoping to change the subject. “I see your hands are greasy.”
“Fixed?” Billy asked. “Ain't nothing wrong with my tractor. All I did was change the oil in all my field tractors and got them ready for the hayrides.” Billy rubbed his chin again. “Say, you're trying to change the subject, aren't you? Sure as I'm standing here you are.”
“Oh, Billy,” Rita whimpered, “I just don't like the circus, okay?” she confessed and pointed her right hand toward the front door. “Look, it's raining a soft, early autumn rain. The morning is beautiful, perfect for a hot cup of coffee, a slice of coffee cake, and a cozy book, or maybe even shopping? The last thing I want to do is go sit in a smelly tent and watch a bunch of creepy clowns.”
“Creepy clowns?” Billy exclaimed. “Say, clowns are mighty funny, not a bit creepy. Why, I get a hoot when I see a bunch of clowns riding a miniature fire engine and—”
“Clowns creep me out, okay?” Rita informed Billy, allowing her voice to become very, very serious. “Billy, I love you, and the thought of becoming your wife soothes my heart, but don't ever, ever expect me to go to some creepy circus.”
Instead of arguing, Billy just shrugged his shoulders. “Old Billy ain't too fond of giraffes. Those tall-necked things give me the willies. Reckon each person has something that can make their skin crawl.” Billy offered Rita a warm smile. “My daddy always said it ain't right to make a dog chase a bear when the fox is close by.”
Rita let out a sigh of relief. She respected—and admired—the way Billy always put her at ease.
“Thanks, Billy.”
“Aw, no need to thank me. I'll just grab Rhonda—”
Rita vehemently shook her head. “Rhonda hates clowns worse than I do.”
“Is that a fact?” Billy asked and shrugged his shoulders again. “I'll take José.”
“Good,” Rita smiled. “Now, why don't we go into the kitchen and have a hot cup of coffee and a slice of coffee cake?”
“Did Edna bake the coffee cake?” Billy asked in a hopeful voice.
“I baked the coffee cake, thank you, Mr. Billy Northfield,” Rita snapped in an offended voice. “And I make a very fine, moist, and delicious coffee cake, thank you very much.”
Billy reached up his right hand and rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, well, you kinda go overboard with the cinnamon. I mean, don't get me wrong, Billy Northfield likes cinnamon just as much as the next fella. Cinnamon is mighty good for your blood sugar and all, but you really put it on.”
“I do not!” Rita insisted and snapped her arms together. “Billy Northfield, if you don't like my coffee cake, then you can go…oh, take a walk in the rain.”
“Now calm down. Ain't no need to get all fussy,” Billy begged. “My daddy said marriage has to be built on honesty.”
“We're not married yet,” Rita told Billy through gritted teeth.
“Ain't no harm in getting a head start, right?” Billy asked, offering Rita a smile. “Look, you don't like all the food I cook up, do you?”
“Well, no,” Rita confessed.
“And didn't you tell me I put way too much cayenne pepper in my chili?”
“Well, yes.”
“Did Old Billy get all fussy?” Billy asked.
“Well, no.” Rita stared at Billy like a kid trapped in a corner. “You accepted my criticism with grace.”
Billy grinned, folded his arms, and waited.
“Oh, Billy Northfield, you're going to drive me insane,” Rita fussed and let out a little laugh. “Okay, okay, I'll go easy on the cinnamon, deal?”
“Deal.” Billy smiled. “But heavy on the cinnamon or not, you do make a mighty mean coffee cake, and I ain't one to pass up a slice and—”
He was cut off when Rhonda stormed through the front door, wearing a purple raincoat and a gray baseball cap. The poor woman looked like a molded grape.
“Whew, rain is really coming down,” Rhonda stated, carrying two paper bags full of baking goods. “Oh hi, Billy. Here, take a bag.” Rhonda handed Billy a paper bag, set the second paper bag down on the front counter, and began shaking rain off her rain jacket. “We might as well close up shop today, sis. I doubt we're going to get much business in this rain.”
“I'm afraid you're right.” Rita sighed.
Rhonda slipped off her rain jacket, tossed it onto a wooden coat rack standing beside the front door, and began slapping a few rain droplets off a light brown dress that had little autumn leaves all over it. The only way Billy could tell Rhonda apart from Rita was by the gray hat the woman was wearing. Rhonda seldom wore hats, and Billy was sure glad the woman was wearing a hat on that rainy morning.
“Edna called me while I was at the grocery store,” Rhonda explained, glancing at the rain and walking back to the front counter. “She's going to extend her stay in North Carolina another week.”
“What?” Rita exclaimed in a panicked voice. “But Rhonda, the Pumpkin Festival—”
“Sis,” Rhonda said calmly, motioning around the empty bakery. “If we're blessed, all these pies and cakes and cupcakes won't go bad before the festival. Hopefully, the locals will save our backsides and prevent us from taking a hit on all of this stuff you insisted we bake for our first day of our autumn sale. If we're blessed to sell this stuff, then we'll worry about the festival.”
“We're going to need Edna, Rhonda,” Rita insisted, and then added in a voice filled with anxiety, “I thought our first day of the autumn sale would be a hit. I was wrong. But that doesn't matter. Even if we're pushed into the red a little, the Pumpkin Festival will shove us back into the green. But we're going to suffer majorly if Edna isn't here to help us do the baking.”
“Edna promised to be back in time for the festival, Rita. She's enjoying visiting with her old friend,” Rhonda tried to calm Rita down. “I—”
Before Rhonda could finish her sentence, the front door opened. Rhonda turned and saw a creepy old man wearing a silver suit. He walked in, holding a wooden cane. The old man, even though soaked with rain, seemed as fresh as a spring rose.
“Uh, welcome to Twin Berry Bakery. Can we help you?”
Winforth Darby placed the wooden cane he was holding in his right hand covered with a fancy gray glove down onto the floor. He glanced around the bakery with curious eyes as rain dripped from his thin silver hair.
“Yes, this will do,” he spoke in a voice that sent chills down Rita’s and Rhonda's spines.
“Uh, what will do, sir?” Rita asked.
Winforth continued to study the bakery. “I will take everything you have on the shelves. Please box them up for me. A van is waiting outside,” he told Rita, calmly reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, and whipped out a cash wallet. “Will, say…five thousand dollars cover the cost?”
“Five thousand” Rhonda's tongue nearly hit the floor.
Rita stared at Winforth with shocked eyes. Who was the creepy little man? “Uh, everything is half off, sir. I'll ring up each item and add the discount. I wouldn't want to cheat you—”
“Such honesty is very rare,” Winforth told Rita, speaking in a funeral parlor tone. “Do as you wish. I'm a patient man.” He put away his wallet and introduced himself in a tone that sent more chills down Rita’s and Rhonda's spines. “My name is Winforth Darby. I own the Darby Circus. However, the circus is simply a hobby, if you will. My real business is the stock market. And as you can clearly see, I'm a very wealthy man.”
Billy looked at Rita and shrugged his shoulders. “Creepy little fella, ain't he?”
Winforth locked his eyes on Billy and made a disgusted face. Peasants did not impress him. “Have your hired worker begin packaging my items, please.”
“Oh, Billy doesn't work for us, Mr. Darby,” Rita explained. “Billy owns his own farm and…oh, never mind. Rhonda, let's start getting Mr. Darby's order ready.”
“I'm hosting a party tonight for my circus employees,” Winforth explained as Rhonda hurried to the front counter. “I tend to spoil my hired workers, but I have come to realize that giving my pets a treat makes them perform well.”
“Oh, we see,” Rita told Winforth and offered a forced smile. The creepy old man was obviously a heartless, cold soul, but he was buying up all the baked goods, and that's what mattered. “We're not going into the red,” she whispered at Rhonda. “Let's hurry.”
“You got it,” Rhonda whispered, grabbed Rita's hand, and rushed back into the kitchen to retrieve large boxes to put all the baked goods in, leaving Billy alone with Winforth.
“Well, I reckon I'll get on back to my farm,” Billy called out in a loud voice and prepared to leave.
Winforth slowly raised his cane at Billy. “Do you like the circus?” he asked in his funeral parlor tone.
“I reckon I do,” Billy answered. “Old Billy likes the smell of peanuts, hay, the clowns, and elephants, and—”
“Ridge Marlor, a detestable man, is no longer assigned to my payroll. I'm in need of a minor clown,” Winforth explained.
“A what?” Billy asked in a confused voice.
“A minor clown,” Winforth answered as icicles fell from his voice. “A minor clown is someone who walks around the audience selling balloons. It's an idiot’s job, and currently, I'm in need of a minor clown. Would you be interested?”
Billy made a funny face and then chuckled to himself. “Mister, you want me, Old Billy, to dress up like a silly old clown and hand out balloons?”
“My circus is in town for two nights. I'll pay you fair wages,” Winforth informed Billy, stiffening his chin and tapping the floor with his cane. “I expect only the best from my hired workers. Be at the circus tomorrow morning at eight sharp. You will fill out the proper paperwork, including tax forms, and be issued your uniform.”
Billy chuckled to himself again. “Me, Billy Northfield, working as a clown.” He slapped his right knee. “Why, my daddy must be laughing up a storm in heaven right about now. Oh boy, my daddy must be slapping his leg nice and hard and laughing all over the place.”
Winforth frowned. “I take it you are not interested in my offer?”
“Mister, I like the circus, but Old Billy a clown?” Billy let out a loud hoot. “Why, I'm due to marry one of those gals you saw, and it just so happens both of those gals hate clowns. Why, even if I wanted to dress up all silly and all, why, Rita would have my hide.”
Before Winforth could reply, Rita came bursting back into the front room carrying a large box. “We'll put your order in boxes, Mr. Winforth.”
“Very good,” Winforth told Rita and cast a cold eye at Billy. “You may leave now.”
Billy turned and grinned at Rita. “This old fella asked me to dress up as a clown and sell balloons for him.” He laughed.
“Oh, uh, what did you say?” Rita asked, hurrying over to a shelf lined with delicious autumn cakes. “Did you accept the offer?”
“Billy Northfield likes to see clowns, but he ain't one.” Billy laughed. “Reckon I better get back to my farm. Expecting a mighty big shipment of hay this afternoon. Reckon Zach and José might need some help. I'll be seeing you.”
“Bye, Billy,” Rita called out, watching Billy walk out into the rain. She focused on filling Winforth's order, Rhonda joining her a few minutes later.
Winforth walked to the front display window, leaned forward on his cane, and studied the autumn rain with sharp, cold eyes. “He sure is creepy,” Rhonda whispered as she gently placed a pumpkin cake into the box Rita was holding.
“Who cares? The old man is buying out the store and keeping us in the green,” Rita whispered back in a relieved voice. “Let's hurry to fill his order and get him out of our bakery.” Rhonda nodded and grabbed another pumpkin cake.
Winforth continued to stare out into the rain. Yes, tonight, he thought, Winforth Darby will finally avenge himself. Tonight, the final curtain falls, but the show is just beginning.
Chapter Two
After Rita and Rhonda loaded Winforth's order into a strange white and gray polka-dotted van that appeared to have never left the year 1972, they hurried back into the bakery.
“$3,899.88!” Rita cheered as she wiped rain out of her long, pretty hair.
“Don't forget the thousand-dollar tip that creepy old geezer gave us,” Rhonda added and happily locked the front door. She put up a wooden “Closed” sign in the front display window. “I'd say we had a pretty fruitful day.” She hurried to the cash register and pulled out one thousand dollars. “Half for you, half for me.” She smiled, handed Rita her share of the tip money, and continued. “How about a fun day of shopping?”
Rita stared down at the money in her hand. “Sis, we could have ended up in the red.” She suddenly frowned. “I honestly believed my idea would bring in more business. I was wrong.”
