Case of the Butter Cream Cookie Hanging Read online

  Case of the Holiday Cookie Hanging

  Jessica Lansberry

  Copyright 2017 - Jessica Lansberry

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Edited by: Keri Lierman

  Books in the Cookie Club Mystery Series:

  Strawberry Cream Stabbing - GET IT!

  Sugar Cream Shooting - GET IT!

  Passion Fruit Poisoning - GET IT

  Burned Brownies - GET IT

  1

  The bake sale was by far the busiest that Beatrice had ever seen it, busier than she could have ever imagined. There were hundreds of people, all talking, laughing and most importantly, eating. She delighted in seeing the way that they devoured her sweet treats with a level of enthusiasm that she adored seeing, every single one of them.

  Beatrice was currently at the local sports field where she and her two best friends, Stella and Sophie, were hosting the third Cookie Club Bake Sale. The premise was a simple one; bake and sell as many treats as humanly possible, all in a bid to raise money for the cause of choice.

  It was an idea born from Sophie of all people, during one of the gals’ infamous baking sessions. The three ladies had been discussing and lamenting over the recent house fire of one of their neighbors and how sad it was that they didn't have the insurance to cover the renovations. As they were deep in a batch of brownies at the time, Sophie wondered why they couldn’t just sell the brownies and use that money to help the neighbors.

  Although Sophie had been talking about that literal batch then and there, Beatrice saw the bigger picture and the instant potential idea presented itself. Putting her overactive personality to the test, she had the bake sale organized within a week. What's more, it wasn't just Beatrice doing the baking, but all the local chefs and homebodies she knew, all of who were only too eager to get involved; contributing delicacies that had even the most hardened soul opening their wallets.

  This bake sale though was designed to raise money for the local fire department who were in desperate need of a new fire truck. They had met during the first bake sale and came to Beatrice specifically, who quickly agreed.

  Beatrice was never one to do things half-heartedly, so she decided to step it up a notch for this one. As she had an entire sports field at her disposal, this time there was a whole array of games, activities, and events. These ranged from simple fares like cake eating contests, won by Sophie, to taste testing tournaments and a pie-tossing extravaganza, also won by Sophie.

  "You really have outdone yourself this time," Stella mused from behind the counter where Beatrice's cream pies were set up – all selling at an exponential rate.

  "We've outdone ourselves, you mean?" Beatrice smiled, throwing her arm around her best friend.

  As she gazed over the busy sports field, she couldn't help but be impressed, Between the kids playing amongst themselves, the men and women eating and laughing and Sophie winning yet another pie tossing contest, it was quite the event.

  And yet, even as Beatrice took it all in, she felt an odd pang in her heart. There was still something missing. It wasn't food or friends. In fact, she knew exactly what it was; she just didn't know how to fix it.

  --

  It was nearing the end of the day, and the throngs of people were just starting to clear. The food was almost all gone, the games had come to an end, and the once very full wallets of the patrons were all but empty.

  The only people to remain behind were Beatrice and the small crew of support staff who had helped to put on the event. As they cleared the tables and picked up the garbage, Beatrice began assembling and counting the money.

  "OK, Grandma," Trevor, Beatrice's grandson, said as he came up behind her, "I'm just going to say goodbye to mom, then I'll come back to help you pack up."

  Much to Beatrice's delight, both Evelyn, her daughter, and Trevor, her grandson had managed to come to the bake sale today, even going so far as to help with the sales. Well, it didn't surprise her that Trevor was helping, he had been living with Beatrice for the better part of three months now, but Evelyn was a surprise that Beatrice relished in.

  Ever since Trevor had gotten into that spot of trouble with the law, which later turned out to not be his fault, Beatrice and Evelyn's relationship had improved in leaps and bounds.

  "Take your time," Beatrice responded, offering Evelyn a wave as she made her way to the parking lot. "And double check that she is still coming to Thanksgiving dinner too," she yelled out as Trevor scurried off, sure that he hadn't heard her.

  Beatrice sighed to herself as she went back to counting the money. The only problem was that, despite herself, she just couldn't concentrate right now. Her thoughts kept going back to the same one she had had all day that had contributed towards the current funk that she found herself in.

  "OK, what's wrong," Stella asked, suddenly appearing by her side. Stella had disappeared well over an hour ago, and Beatrice was surprised she returned, especially considering the reason why she had left.

  Beatrice's best friend thrived at these bake sales. She had always been the most social of the three members of the Cookie Club, especially when it came to dealing with men. Today, she had chosen to wear a very tight and plunging yellow dress, paired with a little too much make-up for the situation – or for anyone in Stella's sixty-plus age group. Beatrice guessed that the reason for the outfit had something to do with the love-bite that was slowly forming on her neck.

  "Wrong? Nothing is wrong," Beatrice answered as she began to count the money for what must have been the tenth time. Of course, she didn’t really count it; there was far too much going on in her mind to bother with that right now. Instead, she rather shuffled it between her hands, trying to look busy.

  "OK, enough of that," Stella said, putting her hands over the money to stop Beatrice. "You think I don't know when my best friend is upset?"

  "How would anything be wrong?" Beatrice asked, reaching forward and picking at a leftover cake on the table. "The sale was a success. My daughter came to help. You managed to meet someone or someones."

  "Just the one this time, darling," Stella smirked, patting at her silver hair as if trying to fix it; despite how perfectly quaffed it was. "Even I can only handle one fireman at a time."

  "No fire hose joke?" Beatrice asked as she tried to hide the smirk, knowing that this joke would have been on the tip of Stella’s tongue.

  "I thought it was implied? Now, come on, tell me what's wrong. If you don't, I will start going into detail after sordid detail about my day." Beatrice chuckled at this as she shoved the piles of money into the lock box and closed it up tight.

  Luckily, Beatrice was saved from the moment by the sudden arrival of her other best friend, Sophie. She was the complete opposite to both Stella and Beatrice and as such, provided the perfect yin to their yang. At the moment, Sophie was wearing a very long, white sundress, stained from top to bottom in an assortment of cakes and pie fillings. The messy dress managed to take the attention off her bright green hair and dirty glasses; which she didn't bother to clean, despite how blind it must have made her.

  "How much did I win?" she exclaimed as she plopped herself down at the table.

  "Win? For what?" Beatrice asked, wondering what her friend was talking about this time. Sophie had a habit of being three or four conversations behind everyone else most of the time, or better
yet, three of four conversations across from everyone to the point where she was usually in her own realm.

  "For all the pie and cake that I ate? I won! Didn't you see?" she rubbed her belly as she said this, which only served to smear the stains further already coating her dress.

  "Sophie, that was for fun. You didn't win anything, except for free cake and pie of course," Beatrice smirked, indicating to the left over baked treats currently crowding the table.

  Sophie scrunched her face up as her glasses fell down her nose as if considering the offer. She then beamed, clapping her hands together excitedly. "Oh... perfect!" She reached forward, picking at the leftover cakes and piling them into her mouth.

  Beatrice, chuckling to herself as she watched her friend enjoying the treats, was glad for the distraction, using it to duck out of the way, or so she thought anyway.

  "Oh no you don't," Stella intervened, stopping her before she was able to move. "Don't think you can get away that easily. And don't think I don't know what is going on here either," she knowingly said as she crossed her arms, staring Beatrice down. "You're bored. It is simple as that."

  "Bored?" Beatrice asked, genuinely confused by this. "How could I be bored? I just spent the last week organizing this sale. Plus, I know another one is sure to be right around the corner. Not to mention the bakery I run and the catering I do on the side -- and my grandson that lives with me... and my cat and bird and... and... and I think I made my point."

  "Oh yes, you're very busy, but that's not what I said. I said you were bored. It's been a good month since you've had anything real to do and you know exactly what I am referring to. I've even considered committing murder myself just to pull you from this funk."

  Stella was obviously referring to the recent murder cases that Beatrice had found herself embroiled in. She had tried but just couldn’t avoid becoming involved in them. From Stella herself through to Trevor, Beatrice was constantly finding herself drawn into these cases like a moth to the flame. What's more, she was actually good at them, better than that even.

  But it had been a good month now since the last time her services had been needed, and as far as Beatrice was concerned, that was a good thing. Sure, she enjoyed them a little more than she would like to have admitted, but that was beside the point. She wasn't a police detective, and despite the pleasure, she derived from them, they were exhausting, to say the least.

  And besides, despite Stella's smug expression, as if she had caught her friend in a lie, she couldn't have been more wrong.

  Even still, she did consider agreeing with Stella for a moment. Anything to get this conversation moving. But staring down Stella with her arms crossed, and then Sophie with her wide eyes, face full of cake, she knew that she should just come out with it. There was a very specific reason for her current mood. One which reared its ugly head a little over a week ago – and was reinforced and reminded by today's events.

  "It's nothing to do with me not being able to play detective," Beatrice admitted, sighing to herself as she took a seat at the table. "It's... after seeing all the families today, having fun and enjoying themselves, I couldn't help but think about my family and how I wish they were all here."

  "Wait? That isn't your daughter?" Sophie blurted, referring to Evelyn that had spent the entire day with them, not to mention the numerous other times they had all spent time together.

  Beatrice was, of course, referring to her son, Dave. She hadn't so much as spoken to him in over a year and although this was hard, it was made harder by the fact that she also hadn't spoken to her granddaughter, Lucy, in over a year as a result. Seeing all the little girls today, some with their mothers and some with their grandmothers, only reminded her of that fact.

  "Lucy is eleven years old now," Beatrice continued, ignoring Sophie's question. She knew that her friend would catch up eventually. "She probably doesn't even know what her own grandmother looks like."

  "Why don't you call her?" Stella asked.

  "Because every time I do, Dave either ignores my call or ends it before I get two words in." Her son had been getting worse and worse lately too. Where once he would humor her, he now all but acts like she doesn't exist.

  "Talking about Uncle Dave?" Trevor interrupted, popping up beside them. "I spoke to Lucy just yesterday," he continued, reaching for a cake in front of Beatrice.

  Beatrice quickly reached forward, snatching his hand in mid-air before he had a chance to wrap around the treat. "You did?" she asked excitedly. "How is she? What did you talk about?"

  "What? Yeah, she's fine," he responded, looking confused as he pulled his hand from his grandmother's vice grip. Again, reaching for the cake, his face fell as Sophie beat him to it, shoveling the last of the treats into her mouth.

  "I'm sorry, I just haven't had a chance to speak to her for so long. You know your uncle still hasn’t responded to my question about Thanksgiving dinner."

  "That's just Uncle Dave, he's busy with work but, come to think of it, did you want to see her? I actually have this --"

  'Yes! Of course," Beatrice blurted, standing up from her chair as it flung out from behind her.

  Trevor watched her with a bemused look on his face. "OK, well she was looking for someone to give her a lift tomorrow night to her school play. That's why she called me. I know Uncle Dave is busy and she needed someone to --"

  "I'll do it," she cut in. "I mean, yes, I'd love to."

  "Great," Trevor responded, looking a little amused by his grandmother's excitement. "I'll call her now and tell her. She was worried she wouldn't be able to go." He shot Sophie an annoyed glance as she continued to merrily chew on the cake, before pulling out his phone and calling Lucy.

  Meanwhile, Beatrice couldn't help but smile to herself. She was finally going to see her granddaughter after all this time. Better yet, it was going to be just the two of them. Beatrice just hoped that for once, there wouldn't be any drama.

  Then again, she knew that she needn’t worry. It was just a simple, little, school play. What could possibly happen?

  2

  Beatrice arrived at her son’s house exactly ten minutes earlier than she was scheduled to. She hoped that would give her enough time to hopefully see her son before she had to take Lucy to the school play. This was a perfect chance to mend her fractured relationship finally, and she wasn't going to waste it.

  "Grandma," her adorable granddaughter squealed as she answered the door, all but throwing herself at Beatrice and near knocking her to the ground as she wrapped her little arms around her waist.

  "My oh my, look at you. You've gotten so big!" Beatrice beamed in delight. She couldn't stop gushing as she looked down at Lucy, still wrapped around her.

  Beatrice just couldn't believe how long it had been. The last time Beatrice saw Lucy, she seemed so much smaller and more fragile. Now, at eleven, Lucy was starting to come into her own. Sure, she still had the rosy red cheeks, and the most adorable blonde pigtails that Beatrice had ever seen, but she was also starting to look a little more grown-up; like her own person, rather than whatever her father chose to dress her as.

  "I'm almost five feet tall!" She exclaimed proudly, standing back and putting her hands behind her back as she stood as tall as she could, trying her best to exaggerate her size.

  "Are you? You looked almost six feet to me," Beatrice gushed, stroking her Lucy’s face with those big blue eyes and that smile. Beatrice couldn't help but notice how much Lucy looked like herself when she was that age. She had a feeling that the two of them were going to get on smoothly.

  "Should we go? I need to get my costume first." Lucy asked, turning and galloping back to her room.

  "Soon dear. Is your father home? I wouldn't mind having a quick chat," she said, stepping into the house.

  The house was, as far as Beatrice was concerned, rather charming and modern. The living room looked like it belonged on the front pages of an IKEA catalog while the general state of the place suggested that either a cleaning service attended her
e regularly or the owner was a clean-freak homebody. Then again, the living conditions that her son provided had never been the problem.

  "He's out the back!" Lucy called from one of the adjoining rooms.

  Through the living room, Beatrice could see the back porch, and sitting on one of the chairs, hunched over on the phone was her son, Dave. Seven at night and Beatrice was sure that he was on a work call, and that, Beatrice maintained, had always been the problem when it came to Dave.

  Dave was an adequate father when it came to providing for his family, the state of the house was proof of that, but that was as far as it went for him. He never learned that the real key to being a good father was being there for your kids. That was one of the primary reasons why Beatrice and her son didn’t talk anymore; every time they spoke their conversations quickly led into an argument about that very topic.

  Well, not tonight. Beatrice was determined to keep things civil and wholesome.

  Stepping out and onto the back porch, she waved to get her son's attention, "Hey, Dave," she offered, walking up to him. To her frustration, he barely offered her a glance. Remaining on the phone, hunched over with one finger in his other ear, he looked up, raised his eyebrows in Beatrice's direction and then turned back to the task at hand.

  He looked terrible too, Beatrice thought. He was the epitome of the out-of-shape, middle-class American worker, at least forty pounds overweight, and with far less hair than Beatrice remembered him having. Dave was the kind of man that looked like he fed himself on fast food five times a week and slept less than four hours a night. In short, he looked ill.

  "I just wanted to let you know that I'm taking Lucy now," Beatrice said softly, leaning forward, but making sure to maintain her distance. She knew what his temper was like and didn't want to be standing too close in case the spit began to fly.

  Dave let out a loud sigh. "One second," he said into the phone before holding it to his chest and turning back to face Beatrice for the first time. "What?" He asked, fixing her with such a cold glare that it could have iced out a bonfire.