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  Chaos and Chocolate Mousse

  HoneyBun Shop Mysteries, Volume 6

  ME Harmon

  Published by ME Harmon, 2016.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  CHAOS AND CHOCOLATE MOUSSE

  First edition. October 16, 2016.

  Copyright © 2016 ME Harmon.

  Written by ME Harmon.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Flying Chairs

  Hannah

  Abigail

  Gwen

  Gwen, Again

  The Bree-Storm

  Final Straw

  Cupcakes Finally

  Coming Up Next...

  From the Author

  Books By ME Harmon

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  Flying Chairs

  The folding chair whistled as it sailed through the air. I spotted the incoming missile just in time to duck and hold onto a tray of chocolate mousse cupcakes.

  The woman who’d thrown the chair bore a striking resemblance to Malibu Barbie. She was tall, strawberry blonde, and at the moment, screaming mad.

  "Snitch! You want to threaten me? Me!" The woman lunged across the table at another twenty-ish woman with hair the color of bleached parchment.

  The second blonde leaped back from fingernails clawing for her throat. She screeched, "Hannah, are you insane!"

  I knew it. The moment I had said yes to this gig, I sensed it wasn't going to be smooth sailing.

  A few weeks ago, I had met Anna and her daughter, Jenna, at a charity auction held here in their home. At the time, I thought mom and daughter looked like twin cutouts from a head cheerleader dress-up set. They were pretty, golden haired, and petite.

  After that event, Jenna hired my shop, HoneyBun Sweets and Sandwiches, to cater her bridal tea.

  My job? Bake, deliver, and arrange a display of fifty chocolate mousse cupcakes. A small job, so I could handle the delivery all by myself. Simple, right?

  However, the second I’d stepped into the Carter's house in New Rochelle, where the tea was being held, I detected this was not going to be a simple day.

  Maybe the group of women I'd dubbed ‘the Barbies’ is what turned me off.

  Maybe my unease was due to the fact that the last time I was here, someone attempted to use me as a scapegoat for a theft.

  Ever walk into a room after two people have been arguing? That's the vibe I picked up when I’d entered the Carter's kitchen. Jenna and her mom were bubbly, as usual. But the bridesmaids? Oh, now they were a different story.

  Of the five women, each one was more blonde than the next. Except for one. She had shiny raven-dark hair that brushed the middle of her back. All of their outfits were the latest in summer wear. I remembered seeing one of the skirt/blouse combos featured on the news during NY fashion week.

  Together they officially made this shindig look like a Barbie and Friends dress-up tea party.

  But the contingent of yellow-haired bridesmaids was tight-lipped as they moved between the kitchen and the backyard where two banquet tables were arranged in the grass.

  For someone who was paying attention, it was easy to tell they were pots near the boiling point. I don't know what sparked it, but one blonde teapot lid had finally bubbled over...a lot.

  Hannah, the strawberry blonde, kicked over another folding chair and bent to pick it up. Like a fool, and fully before the rational side of my brain kicked in, I dropped the tray of cupcakes on a table and stepped on the chair.

  I said, "Hey! Hey there. I see you’re mad, but let's not throw any more of these, OK?"

  Strawberry blonde reared back like a deer about to kick at a bear. "Who. Are. You?"

  "Whoa, Whoa," I held my arms out, palms up hoping to look non-threatening. "My name is Ali. Ali Daniels. I'm a guest of Jenna's." That wasn't the complete truth but close enough. "Why don't you tell us what happened?"

  She jabbed a finger in the direction of the other bridesmaids. "I'm not going to let that witch get away with this!"

  The blondes huddled in a tight circle. I glanced over my shoulder. Only one of them, the chick currently on Hannah's hit list, the platinum blonde, seemed truly distressed. But the others, well, their faces were as vicious and pointed as a NFL linebaker's. They weren't afraid or surprised; they were ticked off and about to go ballistic too.

  Jeez, what was in the water in New Rochelle?

  Brunette Barbie turned on Platinum. "Yeah, Abby. Know what she's talking about?"

  "No, I don't. Why are you talking to me like that?"

  "Because you’re not fooling anyone!"

  Abby, aka Platinum Barbie, didn't like that response and she started to scream at the brunette. That sent the ball rolling, and the other two bridesmaids turned on each other. Hannah saw an opening and tried to dodge around me, but I was quick and blocked her exit.

  "What is going on here!" A woman screamed above the din.

  Anna Carter stepped onto the patio like an angry palace guard. She held a glass pitcher of lemonade in one hand as her mouth twisted in an ugly line. Jenna, the bride-to-be, followed on her mom's heels.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I sensed movement. It was Hannah, going for the chair again. I wedged my body between her and the chair. We were close enough to kiss. She moved off and said, "She should get what's coming to her."

  Anna took a step forward, stumbled, but managed to catch herself. A kid's toy had almost sent her sprawling. She kicked it aside. "What are you talking about, Hannah?"

  "I'll tell you what she's talking about!" Another bridesmaid Barbie hollered and the chaos erupted again.

  Hannah lunged once more, and I moved to intercept. But her foot slipped in the grass. She reached out for the table to stop the fall, but as she did, her hand clipped the end of my cupcake tray.

  Later, if you asked me if something supernatural had transpired just then, I would say yes. As if to taunt me personally, time eased to a crawl. I helplessly watched in horror as fifty of my pristine pastry confections launched into the air and dropped to the emerald green grass in slow, languishing arcs. To my ears, each one striking the ground sounded like small clay pots shattering into shards.

  Of course, most of that was all in my imagination. The cakes hit the ground smearing chocolate frosting across the lawn in less than a second.

  I have this eye-twitch thing that happens when I'm about to lose my temper. My eye started to spasm just then, and my sights fixed on Hannah. When she saw my face, some of the fight left hers as she looke
d from the spoiled cakes back to me.

  In hindsight, seeing my deliciousness marred with bits of grass should've been my cue to return the generous check I'd already been given and drive myself back to Manhattan.

  But oh no, I stayed and ended up in the middle of another mess.

  ***

  Ten minutes later, Jenna kneeled next to me in the grass as I rescued my poor cakes from the lawn. We were alone. The other women had scattered when Jenna's mother threatened to turn the water hose on them.

  Guess they didn't want all that perfectly applied makeup to wash off. Huh, go figure.

  "I feel just awful about this." Jenna picked up cupcakes with manicured nails painted a baby pink.

  I dumped out a handful of cakes onto the tray that lay between us. "It wasn't your fault. Have you figured out what happened yet?"

  She sighed. "No."

  "I'm sorry your tea isn't off to a great start. But things tend to get weird with weddings."

  "You mean some people get jealous?"

  I glanced at her then went back to picking up cakes. "That sounds so ugly, being jealous because someone is getting married. And I didn't mean that. But I've noticed that people become very...emotional when it comes to weddings. There could be any number of reasons."

  From my side view, I could see Jenna nodding. She said, "I know. It's been crazy here. It's happening so fast, and we only have a few weeks before Ethan has to go overseas. We had even talked about going to city hall to make it easy on everyone, but my mother totally freaked out at that idea."

  Jenna's words fell out in a rush. I let her vent. But from the set in her shoulders, I sensed she was working up her nerve.

  We picked up more cakes in silence. Then she let the bombs drop.

  "Ali, I have to ask you for a favor, but first let me say, I'll double your fee for today but that's just to replace these cupcakes."

  I knew that request was coming. Guests were coming and the dessert had been destroyed. The Carter’s kitchen was almost at professional level. Replacing the cakes wouldn't be a big deal. But I waited for what she really wanted to ask.

  I sat back on my heels and looked at her.

  Jenna bit her lip. "Something weird is going on with my bridesmaids. They won't tell me what, but I think it has something to do with Ethan. After the charity auction, I Googled you and found some articles about how you helped the police solve some cases—"

  "That's not quite accurate, Jenna. I had a stake in those and—"

  "—and you helped to figure out what was going on. I've watched you, you have a way of talking to people. The way you were with Ethan's grandmother... Listen, I'll triple your fee for today if you help me figure out what's going on and maybe this day, heck maybe my entire wedding, won't be a total disaster."

  Of course I did the math in my head. My fee tripled was a great lure. I had a dream of opening up a chain of HoneyBuns, and every extra cent I earned went toward that goal. But was this hornet's nest going to be worth the trouble?

  I almost said no. Almost.

  Jenna grabbed my hand, smearing frosting across the back of my fingers. Her hazel eyes pleaded. "I wouldn't impose, but your Aunt Beatrice raved about your desserts and how brilliant you are. Beatrice is very respected in our circle, and what she vouches for is golden. I need someone who I can trust. Please."

  Fudge it. Fudge it. Fudge it. When I rolled my eyes and sighed aloud, Jenna knew what it meant. She squeezed my hand. "Thank you. Thank you. What should we do first?"

  I extracted my fingers from hers. "First, I need to get ingredients."

  "Dad just got back from playing golf. I'll send him to the store. Just make a list of what you need."

  “And I'll need to speak to your bridal party, one by one."

  Jenna jumped to her feet. "Done. I have to find them, but they all should be around here somewhere. Who do you want to talk to first?"

  The O.T., the original troublemaker, that's who I wanted to talk to first. She was the one who ignited all of this, so starting with her made sense. I told Jenna, and watched her head into the house.

  I picked up the tray and got to my feet. Every step I took toward the Carter's large house felt like I was sinking in quicksand. Hannah's infuriated face with bulging eyes, flashed in my mind’s eye. She'd been livid. Something had caused that, and if she wasn't talking, that meant there was a mystery to figure out. And I liked solving a puzzle more than being worried about pending doom.

  Hannah

  I stepped into the house debating whether this was a smart action or a dumb move, or all of the above.

  The patio doors lead to a second living area. To the right of that was a large kitchen.

  Anna Carter paced near the marble-top kitchen island. “Really, Hannah, I don’t know what has come over you!”

  From her tone, she sounded extremely annoyed. But you couldn’t tell by looking at her. Jenna’s mom seemed as if she’d stepped out that movie when the men covertly replace their wives with perfect robot replicas, The Stepford Wives. She was close to the ludicrous but supposed ideal of American female perfection: golden hair that bounced, a tiny size four waist, and high cheekbones enhanced with expertly applied bronzer.

  She stopped short, making her light blue outfit rustle around tanned legs. The dress had a slight A-line shape and then I saw it—crinoline. Anna’s dress had a crinoline liner like a genuine fifties housewife. Wow. Maybe she really was a Stepford wife.

  Anna pouted without smudging her lipstick. “Hannah, I’m speaking to you.”

  Hannah, on the other hand, was not the image of perfection. Her flowing white sundress was rumpled. Even the dainty embroidered ivory flowers around the neckline seemed somehow wilted.

  “I hear you, Mrs. Carter.” Hannah answered flatly like a teen getting yet another lecture. She held a small carton of coconut water and took a long, slurping pull from a straw while avoiding the other woman’s glare.

  Anna snorted. “You shouldn’t use a straw, dear. It’ll give you premature wrinkles around your mouth.”

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “I think I’m going to leave. Just tell Jenna—”

  “—tell me what?”

  At this point, I still held my position by the sliding glass door that lead to the backyard. Jenna entered the room from an open doorway opposite me. Her father, Dorrick, walked in behind her.

  Hannah tensed. Her face tightened, and her shoulders pulled back. It was subtle though noticeable. Did she feel cornered all of a sudden?

  “I was just saying, maybe it’s best I just go home.”

  Jenna raised her hand. “You are going nowhere. But something is going on and we are going to settle this. Today. I love all you girls and want you in my wedding. But first, Ali, could you give my dad the list of ingredients you need?”

  Dorrick approached me smiling. Oh, this should be fun. He, like his wife, looked like a magazine ad for the perfectly aging man. His vibe was a cross between former high school quarterback hero and sexy surfer boy. The last time we met, I’d slipped and was on my way to crash landing in the very spot I stood in now. But Dorrick managed to catch me in what I’m sure was an orchestrated full body contact save.

  He held out a notepad and pencil. “I come bearing gifts. How are you, Madame baker?”

  Yeah, he was charming. I couldn’t help but stare at his perfect teeth. Dorrick is smarmy, but jeez, the man’s pull was magnetic too. It was as if he was a planet and you couldn’t help but be pulled into his gravitational pull.

  I accepted the offerings and put on my professional business-woman demeanor. “Hey, Mr. Carter. Good to see you again. This will just take a sec. I don’t need much.”

  “It’s Rick, for you. I told you that when you were here for the charity auction.”

  I jotted down ingredients resisting the allure to look into his sea-blue eyes. “Of course, Rick it is.”

  As I wrote, Anna relentlessly grilled Hannah. I glanced over to see the strawberry-blonde shrugging off the repeated que
stions.

  I gave the list to Rick, and he left after giving his wife a peck on the cheek.

  His departure didn’t slow Anna down at all. “Hannah, this is ridiculous, you were throwing chairs!”

  Jenna put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Mom, take a break. Let me and Ali talk to Hannah.”

  Anna cocked her head at her daughter. “Ali? Why is she involved in this?”

  “Because she is Beatrice Potter’s niece, and remember everything she told us about Ali?” Jenna said as she angled her mother out of the kitchen. “I need an uninterested third party to settle this mess. Now go and find out where the other girls went off to. Or better yet, let’s go call the guests, and tell them the tea is going to start a little later.”

  Anna’s nose wrinkled as if she smelled something rotten. But she allowed herself to be led away by her daughter without further complaint. From the pout on her perfect lips, I’d guess she didn’t like surrendering control.

  I watched as Jenna escorted her mom to the kitchen’s archway. But then they both jerked to a halt. Anna yelled, “Dorrick Jr.! What are you doing lurking there? Are you getting underfoot again?”

  She reached out past the entryway, and when her arm pulled back, a twelve-year boy was attached to it.

  Dorrick Jr. instantly brought to mind a basement filled with geeky, pre-adolescent boys arguing about Star Wars trivia. He didn’t resemble either of his parents on first glance but seemed to be an odd mish-mash of their best and worst features. Junior sported spiky blond hair the same shade of his mom’s, but also had her slight frame. However, the Air Jordan sneakers on his feet had to be a size thirteen. It looked as if two banana boats had kidnapped the poor boy’s ankles.

  Anna held fast to Junior’s t-shirt collar. “We discussed this earlier. You are to entertain yourself upstairs today. That’s why I got you that new toy kit.”

  “It’s not a toy kit, Mom, it’s gear—”

  “—yes dear. Very nice. I stand corrected. Your gear is already all over the backyard. I nearly broke my neck when I stepped on one earlier. Now go outside, pick up your things then go to your room.”