Free a witchcraft mystery 08 - a toxic trousseau by juliet blackwell Page A

situation?”
    “Cupcakes get my vote,” Sailor said.
    “I do like the way you think,” I said with a smile.
    A young couple was leaving the bakery as we entered: a woman with pale strawberry blond hair and freckles, and a man with a bushy black beard. The man carried a huge pink box tied with twine but held the door for us with his body.
    “Thank you for stopping by, Eleanor, Cody! Isn’t it nice to see politeness in young people?” The woman behind the counter aimed that last comment at Sailor and me. She was about Bronwyn’s age, plump and red cheeked. As soon as the shop door closed behind the couple, she added in a conspiratorial whisper, “I don’t get the facial hair, though. I mean, really? He looks like he’s out of one of those historic photos of lumberjacks felling the giant redwoods back in the day. You know the ones I mean? Ha!” She laughed at her own joke. “But he’s some sort of high-tech guy, like everyone who can afford to live around here these days.”
    The small storefront had a traditional black-and-white-checked floor on which sat large glass display cases in a U shape filled with colorful and extravagantly frostedcupcakes. The walls were plastered with posters of Buckingham Palace, Big Ben and the Thames, and British manor houses. The Union Jack featured prominently in a wall hanging and on packages of imported tea. Porcelain teapots decorated with flowers adorned a high, narrow shelf that ringed the room. The whole place smelled like freshly baked cake, vanilla, and spice. I took a deep breath. Heaven.
    “So, what can I do you for? I don’t believe I’ve seen you folks here before, have I? I’m Renee Baker,” she said. “I’m known around here as the cupcake lady. But as I always say, with a name like Baker, what other line of business could I go into? I absolutely had to become a baker!”
    I smiled. If that logic held true, I would be working with elephants, or perhaps tuning pianos. And Sailor might well have to take to the sea, though from what I’d seen so far he wasn’t much of one for boats.
    “It looks like the cupcake business is thriving,” I said.
    “Hard to believe it myself. Started just two years ago, and already outgrowing my space. Thinking of expanding, but I’d hate to leave the neighborhood.”
    “Did you know Autumn Jennings, from next door?”
    “Yes! Oh. ” She put a hand over her heart and tsked. “I just couldn’t believe it when the police came to talk to me. I mean, she was only about my age, I think, right?” Renee looked to be in her early fifties, though she was so pink and plump and vital it was hard to compare her in my mind to the frail, gray-faced woman I had seen last night. “The poor thing certainly took a turn for the worse recently. She used to adore my maple-bourbon-bacon cupcakes, but lately she hasn’t had the stomach for anything at all.”
    “How recently?” I asked.
    “Maple-bourbon-bacon cupcake?” asked Sailor at the same time.
    Renee winked at Sailor. “Try one?”
    “I honestly don’t know how I could refuse.”
    She reached into the display case and selected a perfectly shaped cupcake topped with a generous dollop of maple-colored frosting and crowned with a strip of bacon.
    “For here, or to go?”
    “To go, please.”
    “Did you know that in Britain they call cupcakes fairy cakes? Isn’t that just about the most adorable thing you’ve ever heard?” Renee asked as she expertly folded a little pink cardboard box. “What else I can get you?”
    “Um, let’s see,” I said. It was nearly lunchtime, and breakfast seemed a long time ago. Besides, it would take a stronger-willed witch than I to refuse the tiny delectable-looking cakes, each with a whimsical name. I pointed out half a dozen different ones: from Granny Bananny Cake to Jack Lemon’s Chiffon to Chocolate Suicide. Given the crowd I run with, I wouldn’t have a problem finding them good homes.
    In fact . . . Oscar was in the van. I ordered a