Free Sprinkle with Murder by Jenn McKinlay

done.”
“Excuse me?” Mel asked. “As far as I know, for the past few months I’ve done nothing but bake cupcakes.”
“Really?” Joyce asked. Her voice was ripe with doubt.
Then it hit her. Her mother wasn’t here about her finding Christie, she was here about her altercation with Olivia.
“Oh, now I get it,” Mel said. “Yes, I did it. I’m not proud of it, but she’s been bugging me for months. Frankly, she had it coming.”
Joyce gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth. She looked horrified.
“What?” Mel asked.
“No remorse?” her mother asked. “Not even a little?”
Mel thought about it. “No, not really.”
“Oh, no, where did I go wrong?” Joyce wailed. She paced back and forth around the kitchen. “It’s because your father died, isn’t it? Why couldn’t he be here to deal with this? He’d know what to do.”
She glanced at the ceiling. “Just you wait until I see you again, Charlie Cooper. I’m going to get you for sticking me with this mess.”
“Um, Mom, I think if I offer to pay for her van to be washed, all will be well,” Mel said. “Not that I want to, but I will if you think it’ll make it right.”
“Her van?” Joyce gaped at her daughter.
“Yeah,” Mel said. “I think that’s more than generous, given how annoying she’s been.”
“The girl is dead. Why would she care if you pay to wash her car?”
They stared at each other, and Mel got a sinking feeling in her chest.
“Mom.” It was Mel’s turn to frown. “What, exactly, do you think I’ve done?”
Joyce glanced around the room, as if to make sure they were alone. “Whacked Christie Stevens, of course.”
“WHAT?” Mel yelled. She didn’t mean to, but truly, if her mother had said she’d been spawned by an alien abduction, she couldn’t have been more shocked. “Are you kidding me?”
“Hush. It was a crime of passion. I’m sure we can make an excellent defense for that.”
“You think I murdered Christie?” Mel asked. She plunked her hands on her hips and faced her mother down. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Well . . .”
“Don’t you ‘well’ me,” Mel said in a fine imitation of Joyce. “How could you, Mom? How could you think that of me?”
“Tate is the love of your life,” she said. “It’s understandable that the thought of him marrying another might provoke . . .”
“What? Homicidal tendencies?” Mel smacked a hand down on the table. It sounded like a shot, and made her mother jump. It was louder than Mel had intended, and defused her first surge of anger. However, she was still mightily annoyed. “Mom, I am not now, nor have I ever been, in love with Tate. He’s my friend and that’s it.”
Joyce stepped close to her daughter and patted her hand. “That was excellent, I almost believed it. Don’t you worry. We’ll hire the best attorneys money can buy.”
With a quick hug and kiss, Joyce left. Mel watched her go. Her powers of speech had left her, and she stared stupidly at the doorway, wondering what else the day could bring.
“What was that about?” Angie ducked her head in. “I heard you slap the table all the way out front.”
“My mother thinks I whacked Christie Stevens.”
“Did you?” Angie asked.
“What?” Mel asked, shocked. Surely, Angie couldn’t think that, too.
“I’m just messing with you,” Angie said with a grin.
Mel sagged with relief. “Not funny.”
“Oh, I don’t know. The look on your face was classic.” Mel scowled.
“Don’t worry. You know your mom has always been deluded about you and Tate.”
“Yeah,” Mel said. “She doesn’t understand that we’re all just friends.”
Angie moved across the table from Mel and helped her shift the Tinkerbells on the tray to make for easier access.
“So, you’ve never had feelings for Tate?” Angie asked.
Mel glanced up at her. “You’re kidding, right?”
Angie looked momentarily uncomfortable, but she pressed on. “No, I’m serious. Has there ever been a time when you thought you might like to date him?”
“Date Tate?” Mel asked. “The guy who used to have me check his braces for stray lettuce leaves