Free Sprinkle with Murder by Jenn McKinlay Page A

before social studies? The pal who totaled my first car when I was trying to teach him to drive a stick shift? The same buddy who sounded an air horn at my cooking school graduation? That Tate?”
Angie was laughing out loud by the time Mel was done.
“Sorry,” she said through her chuckles. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You’ve been hanging around my mother too much,” Mel said. “Don’t get me wrong. Tate’s on the short list of people I’d give a kidney to, but he’s not a romantic prospect—not now, not ever.”
With the cupcakes all nicely arranged, Mel hefted the tray up to her shoulder and headed out the door to restock the display case.
“You must feel the same way,” she said, but Angie was behind her and Mel missed whatever she said as she walked into the shop and found Uncle Stan and Detective Rayburn waiting for her. Uncle Stan did not look happy.
    Seven

    “Uncle Stan, it’s not your usual day for a cupcake!” Angie hurried around the counter to give him a hug. He returned the hug and smiled down at her.
“Hi, Angie. Hey, how are the brothers?”
“Oh, you know, lovable, annoying, lovable, same old, same old,” she said with a wave of her hand.
During their teen years, Uncle Stan had gotten to know several of Angie’s seven brothers quite well for a variety of misdeeds and misdemeanors.
Mel slid the tray into the display case and glanced over the top. Uncle Stan was studying her.
“Mel, do you have a minute? I’m actually here on official business.”
Angie looked over her shoulder at Mel with wide eyes.
“It’s okay,” Mel said.
Several of the customers at the booths and tables were watching the interaction, so Mel pasted a pleasant smile on her face. She didn’t want anyone thinking she was failing a health inspection. She gestured for Uncle Stan and company to come around the counter to talk to her in the back.
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
She wasn’t sure whether she should sit or stand. If she sat and they didn’t, it would be intimidating, so she stood and leaned against the worktable, hoping to look casual as opposed to rude.
Rayburn jingled the change in his pocket, as if he were eager for something to happen. He made her nervous, and Mel studied him more closely than she had before. He was short and skinny with a cowlick and a prominent Adam’s apple. He was a new recruit to the detective squad, and he looked it. Judging by the mustard stain on his tie, Mel was betting Rayburn was single and likely to remain that way. Looking at the two of them, she couldn’t help being reminded of Laurel and Hardy. As much as she loved Uncle Stan, this did nothing to reassure her.
Rayburn met her gaze briefly before he carefully moved it over the room. She knew he was cataloging every detail of her kitchen. There was no reason for it, but it still made her nervous.
“What’s going on, Uncle Stan?” she asked, turning her attention back to him because he seemed to be running the show.
“We have some more questions.”
“All right,” Mel replied.
Detective Rayburn walked around the kitchen. He peered into the empty bowl of her pink mixer, and Mel wondered if he was foraging for food. Maybe she should offer him a cupcake. Would that constitute bribery? Wait . . . what would she be bribing them for?
“Mel?” Uncle Stan interrupted her thoughts, and she suspected he’d said her name more than once.
“Yes?” She forced herself to focus on him.
“There was a box of cupcakes found in Ms. Stevens’s studio,” he said. “The markings on the box indicate that they came from your shop. Do you have something you want to tell me?”
“Oh, God, you talked to Mom, didn’t you?” she asked.
“I’m concerned about you,” Uncle Stan said.
“Did she tell you that I’m in love with Tate?” Mel asked. “Uncle Stan, do not believe her.”
Rayburn paused in his search of the kitchen to listen to their conversation.
Uncle Stan raised one bushy eyebrow, which encouraged Mel to continue. “Mom has had it in her head that I’ve loved