Desserts and Deception: A Margot Durand Cozy Mystery Read online

  Desserts and Deception

  A Margot Durand Cozy Mystery

  Danielle Collins

  Fairfield Publishing

  Contents

  Copyright

  Message to Readers

  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

  Thank You!

  Recipe

  Copyright © 2017 Fairfield Publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.

  This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

  Thank you so much for buying my book. I am excited to share my stories with you and hope that you are just as thrilled to read them.

  If you would like to know about all my new releases and have the opportunity to get free books, make sure you sign up for our Cozy Mystery Newsletter.

  FairfieldPublishing.com/cozy-newsletter

  Chapter 1

  Margot Durand drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she maneuvered her car into position in the airport pickup zone. It was growing dark and she hoped that Tamera’s flight hadn’t been delayed. Margot hadn’t thought to check it before she left North Bank for Ronald Reagan Airport near Washington, D.C.

  The sound of classical music wound through her scattered thoughts. She was tired. It had been an early morning—a baker’s morning, as she liked to call them—and she was considering, once again, hiring an assistant. She had the overhead and the fact was, if she did hire someone competent enough, her mornings wouldn’t have to be quite so early. But the fact of the matter was that she was a tough boss to work for. She demanded perfection of herself and any assistant would have to be strong enough to put up with that.

  Spotting Tamera, she pulled her car to the curb and hopped out, thoughts of hiring an assistant pushed to the back of her mind as she embraced her best friend.

  “You’re back!”

  Tamera laughed and pulled back to look at Margot. “You look tired.”

  “And you look tan.”

  Tamera positively glowed, her smile widening as her blush deepened. “We spent quite a bit of time on the beach.”

  “Good for you,” Margot said. She leaned down and picked up her friend’s suitcase.

  “I can get that.”

  “Nonsense,” Margot said, popping the trunk of the car. “Hop on in. It’s way too hot out here.”

  Tamera agreed and slipped into the passenger’s seat as Margot made her way back behind the wheel. She pulled into traffic and soon they were heading down 395 toward North Bank, Virginia, and their small, historical hometown.

  “Gosh, it’s good to be back.”

  “You know, some people actually prefer vacations to real life.” Margot laughed at the look her friend gave her.

  “I love my store and being away from the Craft Boutique for two weeks just about killed me.” Tamera sighed. “Speaking of, can we stop by?”

  Margot snuck a glance at her friend. “You’re not serious.”

  “I am.”

  “You just got back!”

  “And my store has been closed for two weeks. Two whole weeks, Marg. That's a long time. I…I miss it.”

  Margot couldn’t help her grin. “I suppose I understand. I don’t remember the last time I left the Pâtisserie for that long.” Or at all. She added the need for a vacation to her mental to-do list.

  An image of the The Parisian Pâtisserie filled Margot’s mind. Her little shop sat along a row of others like it, their back doors looking out over the Potomac River and their entrances facing the main, cobbled street of North Bank.

  Margot’s bakery boasted all the goodness of a French bakery mixed with traditional American baked goods to please everyone. The shop’s pale yellow exterior fit in with the bright colors of the other shops, but inside, she’d decorated with an eye toward a true French bakery as best she could.

  It would be difficult to leave her shop for that long, just as it would be difficult to hire someone else.

  “What’s on your mind, friend?” Tamera’s softly asked question broke into Margot’s thoughts.

  “Sorry. I just…I had lunch with Adam the other day and—”

  “You did, did you?”

  Margot sent her friend a look. “It was just lunch. We do that all the time.”

  “Ever since you and he became reacquainted at the end of spring, you’ve been seeing much more of one another. I’ve noticed. That’s all.”

  Margot thought of the case her friend was talking of. Her niece, Taylor, had been accused of murdering a young man who’d been new to town. She shivered just at the memories.

  “We’re friends,” she said, emphasizing the word, “and friends have lunch together now and again.”

  “All I'm saying is don’t close yourself off to…more.”

  Margot wasn’t even going to give Tamera the courtesy of answering that. “Anyway, he said that I should consider hiring someone to help me at the bakery.”

  “What happened to Rosie?”

  “Oh, no, I’ve still got Rosie.” Margot smiled. “I’ll never let her go.”

  “She’s like a rare jewel, that’s for sure,” Tamera agreed.

  “He was saying for the baking part.”

  “Oh.” Margot caught Tamera’s nod out of the corner of her eye. “But that’s a pretty personal thing. Right? I mean…it means sharing your recipes and stuff like that.”

  “Yes.” Margot had thought through all of these things multiple times. “I can’t get away from the fact that it would be great to have someone to fall back on. A way that I could keep from closing the shop every time I get sick or want to take a day off.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve made it this long without help.”

  “You have.”

  “Yes.” Tamera nodded. “But I have a different clientele. And my stock keeps.”

  “True. But I did have help at one point. You remember Casey, right? But then she went off to grad school and I slipped back into old habits. Thankfully, my ability to pay the bills doesn’t revolve around the bakery, but still…” The money she’d received when her husband had been killed in the line of duty, or so the reports said, was well invested. She would be fine to retire any moment she wanted to, but the bakery was something special to her. More than a paycheck, it was a passion.

  “I understand. But I’m inclined to agree with Secret Agent Man.”

  “Don’t call him that,” Margot said with a smile.

  “He’s got a point. And think of it this way, you’re not just helping yourself, you’re helping someone else.”

  Margot let go of the breath she’d been holding and exited the freeway. Turning toward town, she thought through what her friend had said. It was a good point. There were plenty of people out there who needed jobs. Maybe she was being selfish by not hiring someone.

  “Good point, Tam. Maybe it’s time to start looking for the right person to hire.” She turned onto a side street.

  “Hey, where are we going? You promised to take me to my shop!”

  “And I will,” Margot said, flashing her a devious smile, “but first we’re stopping by Claytons.”

  Tamera let
out a girlish giggle. “I have missed Claytons. Let’s go!”

  Margot relaxed back into her seat, finally feeling some peace in her heart. Two of her good friends thought hiring someone was a good idea, and she couldn’t ignore that. But now it was time to put thoughts of work aside and focus on what was truly important in this moment.

  Ice cream.

  “That was so good,” Tamera said, clutching at her flat stomach. “I’m going to have to take an extra-long run in the morning.”

  “Does that mean I get to take you home now? To that handsome husband of yours?”

  Tamera laughed. “Not a chance. To my shop we go.”

  Margot shook her head but put the car in gear, turning down the street that would take them toward the Craft Boutique.

  “Did you tell Hubby you wouldn’t be home right away?”

  “Yep,” Tamera said, the smile evident even in one word. “He actually came back two days ago and will be working late. I assume he’ll be getting home about the time I do.”

  “He’s been working a lot, huh?”

  “He’s a trial lawyer in D.C. What do you expect?”

  Her friend’s words were laced with something Margot couldn't put her finger on. “How was the vacation?”

  “Perfect. No, better than perfect. It was so relaxing. Marg, it’s what I always imagined a honeymoon could be.”

  “So it was worth the wait?”

  Tamera laughed, the sound low and booming in the small car. “In more ways than one. Part of me wishes I could have taken the time off when we first got married. I mean, the three days in Nantucket were great right after the wedding, but this was the honeymoon I had wanted. George seemed to love it too.”

  Margot remembered her friend’s absence at the end of spring that year. She’d missed almost all of the controversy surrounding Taylor’s visit, but thankfully, she’d come back in time to meet Margot’s sister Renee.

  Margot pulled her car into a parking space in front of the boutique, thankful for the later hour, which meant almost no traffic on Front Street.

  “You’re finally back, eh?”

  Margot nearly jumped out of her skin. “Mrs. Henderson. I didn’t see you there.”

  The older woman stood with one hand shoved into the pocket of her jeans and the other wrapped tightly around a leash, at the end of which was a portly corgi. Its tail wagged even as the woman frowned at Tamera and Margot.

  “Hello, Phyllis,” Tamera said, smiling as if Phyllis Henderson’s frown was anything but. “Nice night for a walk, eh?”

  The woman grunted and kept walking. Margot watched her go, shaking her head. “I swear she does nothing but spy on people.”

  “She runs The Pet Depot, silly,” Tamera said with a grin.

  “You I know what I mean.”

  “I do. But give her a break. She lives above the shop and has nothing else to do.”

  Margot nodded in agreement and followed Tamera to the door.

  “Hello, beautiful,” Tamera whispered to the door.

  “You’ve officially lost it.”

  “For the longest time, I didn’t have anything else, Marg.”

  “But now you’ve got George. Does he know of this love affair you have going with your boutique?”

  Tamera shot her a look, barely indiscernible in the darkness. “He knows. And he’s slowly helping me let go.”

  Margot followed her friend’s laughter into the shop, the scents of paper, scented candles, and an odd scent she couldn’t place greeting them.

  “Does it…smell strange to you?”

  Tamera sniffed. “Maybe a little. It has been closed for two weeks. That’s a long time.”

  “True.”

  “I’ve got to get to the back of the shop to get the lights. Give me a second.”

  Margot watched her friend pick her way through the darkened shop, the only light coming from a streetlight almost a block down. She was about to pull out her phone to turn on the flashlight when Tamera shrieked.

  “Tamera!” Margot called out. She rushed toward the sound but her foot caught on a table, almost sending it toppling over. “Oof. Tamera, what is it?”

  “Oh my gosh, Marg. I think…I…I…”

  “What’s wrong?” Margot was almost to the back of the shop now.

  “I think it’s a body.”

  Margot’s blood ran cold. “What?”

  Just as she reached the back of the shop, the lights came on to show Tamera standing over a body, face down on the floor. It was a man dressed in khaki shorts and wearing a Hawaiian print shirt. A dark brown fedora was off to the side of his head, turned upside-down. Margot noted smudges of what looked like—was it makeup?—on the inside rim.

  Without thought, Margot knelt next to the man and felt for a pulse, pressing down nausea as she did. His skin was cold and firm to the touch.

  “Tam, you need to call the police. Now!” Margot stood back up, wrapping her arms around herself.

  There was no doubt. The man was dead.

  Chapter 2

  “Margot Durand,” a deep voice said behind her. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  She turned to see Detective Adam Eastwood. He wore running shorts and a t-shirt that fit him much too well. She swallowed and forced her eyes from his muscled chest to meet his intent stare.

  “Adam,” she gasped.

  “I hear you found a body?” There was sweat on his shirt and dotting his brow. Had he been on a run? “Margot?”

  She blinked. Her thoughts were scattered and she couldn't get the picture of the man lying dead on the floor out of her mind.

  “Y-yes.”

  “Hey,” Adam said, stepping closer, “it’s going to be all right. I’m here now.”

  His words were comforting—almost too much so—and she suddenly felt self-conscious, looking to where Tamera stood talking to another officer.

  “Want to tell me what happened?”

  She was surprised to see he had a notepad in his hand and was ready to get down to business. As the town’s resident detective, she knew he had a job to do and she was part of that job. Nodding, she explained exactly what had happened, ending with the fact that she’d felt for a pulse but, finding none, had Tamera call the police.

  “Good, good.” He scribbled some notes and then looked up at her. “Did you recognize the man at all?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “But I didn’t get a good look. I almost turned him over but when I didn’t feel a pulse, I figured I shouldn't disturb the crime scene.”

  “Good thinking.” He wrote some more. “And Tamera, you said you’d just picked her up?”

  “Yes. Well, we got ice cream first.”

  “Claytons?” His easy grin told her he was trying to calm her down.

  “It’s the only place to go for ice cream, really.”

  “Agreed. And then you came here? Did you see anyone?”

  “No— Oh, well, we saw Mrs. Henderson walking a dog.”

  “Phyllis?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Noted.” He looked up just as Margot heard a familiar voice. “Looks like George is here.”

  Margot turned to see George with his arms around Tamera. She was crying into his chest and, for a moment, Margot envied her—if only just a little. There had been a time when Margot had cried like that into Julian’s chest, but that had been in the past.

  “Why don’t we go over there?” Adam suggested, as if sensing her mood.

  They walked over just as the EMTs were bringing out the body. It looked as if one of them hadn’t zipped up the body bag all the way and the stiff wind from the Potomac yanked the flap back and forth.

  George’s gasp drew everyone’s attention.

  “That’s Mark!”

  Adam rounded on George with wide eyes. “You know the victim?”

  George stammered, unable to take his eyes from the body.

  “Hold on, guys,” Adam instructed. Then, turning to Margot and Tamera, he said, “You may want to look away. G
eorge, can you take a quick look? To verify you know the victim?”

  Looking grim, George took a step toward the body. Before Margot could turn her head, one of the EMTs pulled back the flap and exposed the man’s face. It seared into her memory and she gasped, pulling her gaze away.

  “Tell me this isn’t happening,” Tamera said, Margot coming to her side. “Tell me I didn’t just find a dead body in my craft shop.”

  Margot wanted to be able to tell her friend that, but the truth was it had happened. She wrapped her arm around Tamera and pulled her close, risking a glance back toward where George stood. From her perspective, she could just see the lines on his forehead deepen. His nod to Adam told her all she needed to know. George did know the victim. But how?

  “Marg, can we go? I just…I don’t want to be here.”

  Margot swallowed down her curiosity. It wasn’t so much that she wanted to butt into Adam’s investigation, but why had this man—whom George apparently knew—been found in Tamera’s boutique? Margot almost felt responsible, though she knew that was foolish. She’d only been in charge of keeping a set of Tamera’s keys and checking on the place every once in a while.

  She’d just been in there…when was that? She thought back. Three days ago. Everything had seemed fine and there had definitely not been a body in there when she checked on the place in preparation for Tamera’s homecoming.

  “Marg?”

  Margot blinked. Tamera had asked her a question. Right. “I’m sorry. I was…distracted. Um, let me ask Adam if we can go.” Tamera gave a vague nod and wrapped her arms around herself.

  Margot waited until the EMTs had gotten back in the ambulance before she approached Adam. He and George were in the middle of a conversation and she hated to interrupt, but she wasn’t sure what else to do. She came up quietly, waiting.

  “I don’t know how he got in there—” George pointed to the boutique. “—or how he was killed. I mean…I don’t even know how he would have gotten down to North Bank.”

  “Because you know he doesn’t have a car?”