Free Booked for Trouble by Eva Gates

“As you’re not going anywhere, can I have your car?”
    â€œI don’t know, dear. This whole thing will be cleared up in a few hours, and I scarcely want to be stuck here all day.”
    â€œCall me when the police are finished with you, and I’ll bring the car back.”
    â€œI—”
    â€œGreat, thanks.” I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, grabbed the valet ticket off the desk, and hurried away.
    I walked through the lobby as fast as I could without breaking into a sprint. A uniformed police officer was at the reception desk, and for a moment I thought Watson had put a guard on my mom.
    â€œI demand you rectify the situation immediately!” An elderly lady, who looked as though she were preparing to take on the job of Maggie Smith’s understudy on the set of
Downton Abbey
, pounded her bejeweled cane on the floor. She wore a purple sun hat big enough to serve as a soup tureen, and a voluminous, almost floor-length dress in a pattern of violet roses. Her crepe-paper neck was draped with yards of beads.
    â€œPerhaps we can go someplace private.” George, manager, attempted to ease the lady away without actually laying a hand on her.
    â€œMy great-granddaughter’s birthday present has been stolen, and I want the person or persons responsible apprehended.” Another whack of the cane. George flinched.
    â€œIf you’ll just describe the item, ma’am.” The cop struggled to get a word in edgewise.
    None of my business. I headed outside and waved Mom’s ticket at the valet.
    In a few minutes I was heading, not south to the lighthouse, but north into the center of Nags Head.
    I needed two things and I needed them fast: one of Josie’s pastries and some of her calm advice.
    I was pulling into the parking lot of the strip mall that contained Josie’s Cozy Bakery when my iPhone told me I had a text.
    Butch: You okay, Lucy?
    I quickly texted back: My mother is not a killer.
    He replied: Take care.
    I was slipping the phone back into my purse when it buzzed once more.
    Connor: Trouble at the library? Karen Kivas found on lighthouse grounds? You okay?
    Me: I’m at Josie’s.
    Connor: You’re okay then :)
    I put the phone away.
    The morning rush had died down at Josie’s Cozy Bakery, and my cousin came out from the back when I asked one of the counter staff to get her. Josie wore her regular work clothes of holey jeans and loose white T-shirt under a calf-length apron with a bib. Her golden hair was pulled back into a high, tight ponytail and her nose and cheeks were dotted with flour. Even in that getup Josie looked sexier than I did after an afternoon of primping.
    She took one look at my face. “What’s the matter? Why aren’t you at work? Do you want something to eat?”
    â€œCoffee and a scone would be nice.” It seemed like hours since my yogurt breakfast.
    Josie made mysterious hand signals to one of her staff, and then she guided me to a table in a back corner. Fragrant steam rose from the espresso machine and the bakery was full of the marvelous scents of baking bread, warm pastry, and rich fillings.
    Despite my worries, I took a moment to breathe it all in. A waitress arrived with two mugs of hot coffee and a large scone, plump with blueberries and drizzled with icing.
    Only a few of the tables in the bakery were occupied at this time of day. Josie did most of her business in the morning, the seats taken by tourists relaxing after a runon the beach or a daybreak fishing trip and lineups of workers wanting coffee and breakfast to go. There’d be another rush at noon for crisp, healthy salads and sandwiches made with freshly baked baguettes or flaky croissants. The bakery closed at three, but Josie’s evenings could be spent catering dessert buffets at private parties or after-business meetings.
    Her boyfriend, Jake, had recently returned to the Outer Banks after ten years learning to cook in New