Dying for a Cupcake by Denise Swanson Read Free Book Online Page A

some kind of drug overdose.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. All of the Kizzy Cutler’s Cupcakes personnel are required to submit to monthly drug testing,” Kizzy snapped as she stalked into the kitchenand glared at Ronni. “Whatever her past issues with drugs had been, Fallon was now clean and sober. She’d turned her life around. She was a fine, upstanding young woman. The company will mourn her loss.”
    “Of course,” Ronni acquiesced. “I certainly didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”
    “Good.” Kizzy smiled insincerely. “I’m sure the pathologist will tell us it was some sort of undiagnosed medical condition. A tragedy, but unavoidable.” Kizzy poured herself a cup of coffee, sat down at the table, and said, “Now let’s discuss how we’re going to handle the situation in light of the recent misfortune.”
    “Perhaps we should cancel the contest out of respect for Fallon’s passing,” I suggested, knowing full well that Kizzy would reject my recommendation, but wanting to see how she wiggled out of it without appearing like a coldhearted witch. “Or at least reschedule it. Right before Thanksgiving might work.”
    From her recent actions, it was clear that Kizzy was not about to inconvenience herself over something as inconsequential as an employee’s death. And I’d bet money that she had no intention of postponing the big introduction of her new cupcake line.
    “Fallon wouldn’t want that,” Kizzy assured me with a dismissive glance. “She was a trouper and would feel awful if everyone who put so much time and effort into making the cupcake contest weekend a huge success ended up losing money because of her.”
    “Right.” I marveled at how confidently the cupcake magnate spoke for her dead assistant. “How silly of me to think otherwise.”
    Ronni shot me a silencing glare and I mimicked zipping my lips. Once I shut up, Kizzy outlined the story that would be given to the press and who would be responsible for the tasks previously assigned to Fallon.For the next couple of hours we drank endless cups of coffee, nodding and taking notes as Kizzy talked and gave orders.
    Ronni’s grandfather clock had just chimed six times when the doorbell rang. The police had arrived in the form of Chief Eldridge Kincaid and two of his crime scene techs. Both Chief Kincaid’s heavily starched khaki uniform and gray buzz cut made me itch to salute him, but I resisted the urge. He demanded flawlessness in himself and all the people around him, which was a problem when his daughter was the self-professed town bad girl. I imagined his obsession with perfection wasn’t much fun for his officers, either.
    The chief ignored Poppy and she returned the favor, but he greeted me and asked how my dad was doing. Once my father was paroled and released from prison, he and the chief had resumed their previous friendship, something for which I was eternally grateful. Most of the townspeople had accepted that Dad had gotten a bum rap, but there were enough who, despite the evidence, refused to believe that he had been framed. I was sure that the chief’s public willingness to remain pals had helped those who were on the fence come down on my father’s side of the issue.
    Once it became clear that Poppy, Winnie, and I hadn’t been at the B & B when Fallon got sick, and had never met the girl, the chief lost interest in us. He asked us a few questions, but since we didn’t have any firsthand knowledge of the situation, he allowed us to leave. Actually, allowed wasn’t the right word; he ordered us to go. It was clear he couldn’t wait to get rid of us, especially his daughter, who had answered his inquiries with as few words as possible, glowering at him during the entire encounter.
    As I was on my way out the door, I overheard thechief say to one of his techs, “Make sure you get a sample of the victim’s vomit and bag anything that she might have ingested.” Chief Kincaid glanced at me as I stood in the foyer