Death at the Dessert Counter (The Purrfect Pantry Mysteries #10)

Chapter 1 A Dash of Trouble

The first thing Mia Rossi noticed that morning was the smell.

Lavender.

Honey.

And just a hint of warm vanilla rising from the ovens.

It was the kind of scent that made people slow down without realizing it.

Mia stood behind the polished wooden counter of The Honeycomb Bakery, watching a tray of golden cakes cool beneath the soft morning light.

Outside, Crystal Cove was already awake.

Colorful festival banners stretched across the street, fluttering in the ocean breeze.

Vendors were setting up tables along the sidewalk, musicians were tuning their instruments, and somewhere nearby, someone was already burning something on a grill.

Mia smiled.

Today was the day.

For weeks, she had been perfecting her newest creation.

The Lavender Honey Dream Cake.

The name still made her smile every time she said it.

Three layers of delicate honey sponge. A silky lavender cream between each layer. A thin glaze of wildflower honey across the top. And, because Mia believed every dessert deserved a little magic, tiny crystallized lavender petals scattered like purple stars over the surface.

She had made the cake dozens of times.

Adjusted the honey.

Reduced the lavender.

Changed the frosting.

Changed it again.

And finally, two nights ago, she had taken one bite and closed her eyes.

Perfect.

At least, she hoped so.

Today, the entire town would get to decide.

Mia carefully lifted the first finished cake and placed it onto a white porcelain cake stand.

"Easy," she whispered.

The cake was beautiful.

She leaned closer.

The layers were even. The frosting was smooth. The lavender petals sat exactly where she had arranged them.

"You're going to make me famous."

From the sunny window came a slow, unimpressed blink.

Mia glanced over.

Gingersnap was stretched across the cushioned window seat, his long ginger body curled in a loose comma. One paw hung over the edge. His eyes were barely open.

He looked at the cake.

Then at Mia.

Then, apparently deciding that fame was none of his concern, he closed his eyes again.

Mia laughed.

"Fine. Don't support my dreams."

Gingersnap flicked his tail.

"I know. You're above all this."

The ginger tabby had been part of Mia's life for nearly five years, and in that time she had learned that Gingersnap had strong opinions about almost everything.

He disliked closed doors.

He disliked vacuum cleaners.

He disliked strangers who spoke too loudly.

He adored smoked salmon.

And he possessed the uncanny ability to appear precisely when Mia was opening something he believed might contain food.

But most of the time, he was simply there.

Quiet.

Observant.

Watching.

Mia turned back toward the cake.

She adjusted one lavender petal with the tip of a small pair of tweezers.

"There."

Perfect.

The Honeycomb Bakery had never looked better.

The little shop occupied the corner of Willow Street and Ocean Avenue, its pale yellow exterior glowing beneath the California sun.

Inside, honey-colored wooden shelves displayed rows of pastries, cookies, breads, and cakes.

Small glass jars of ingredients lined the walls.

A chalkboard menu hung behind the counter.

Today, however, the bakery was more crowded than usual.

The Crystal Cove Harvest & Food Festival had transformed the quiet coastal town into a celebration of everything edible.

And everyone wanted to be part of it.

Mia had spent most of the previous evening arranging her festival display. Her signature cake sat beneath a glass dome near the dessert counter, waiting for the official unveiling.

Beside it were small tasting plates.

Napkins.

Tiny forks.

A handwritten sign.

LAVENDER HONEY DREAM CAKE

A NEW CREATION BY MIA ROSSI

Mia stared at the sign.

Her stomach fluttered.

"You can do this."

Gingersnap opened one eye.

"I mean it."

The cat closed it again.

Mia sighed.

"Wonderful pep talk."

She wiped her hands on her apron and looked through the front window.

The festival crowd was growing.

Children raced between stalls.

Older couples wandered along the sidewalk.

Tourists stopped to photograph the decorations.

A local band began playing near the town square.

And then Mia spotted him.

Harrison Finch.

She knew him before she even saw his face clearly.

Everyone in Crystal Cove knew Harrison Finch.

He was wealthy, influential, and terrifyingly difficult to impress.

For years, his restaurant reviews had made or broken businesses across the California coast. A single glowing article could fill a restaurant for months.

A single cruel paragraph could empty one.

He had built his reputation on being impossible to please.

Mia had never met him personally.

She had heard enough stories.

He was somewhere near the festival's main stage now, dressed in a sharply pressed cream-colored jacket despite the warmth of the day. His silver hair was perfectly combed, and he carried himself with the confidence of someone accustomed to having doors opened before he reached them.

A festival volunteer approached him.

Harrison barely looked at her.

He said something.

The volunteer's smile disappeared.

Mia couldn't hear the conversation through the glass.

She didn't need to.

She knew that expression.

Harrison Finch was unimpressed.

"That's encouraging," Mia muttered.

Behind her, Gingersnap yawned.

Mia glanced toward him.

"You think I should be worried?"

The cat stared at her.

"Right. You think I should stop talking to myself."

A sudden burst of laughter came from outside.

Mia smiled despite herself.

For the moment, everything was fine.

Then the front door opened.

The bell chimed.

"Mia!"

Mia turned.

Chloe Bennett came rushing inside carrying two boxes of disposable tasting forks.

Her dark hair was tied messily behind her head, and she had a smudge of flour across one cheek.

"You are supposed to be helping me," Mia said.

"I am helping you."

"You've been gone twenty minutes."

"I was attacked by a crowd of people demanding cinnamon rolls."

"Terrible."

"Absolutely horrifying."

Mia laughed.

Chloe dropped the boxes onto the counter.

"How's the cake?"

Mia pointed proudly toward the display.

Chloe's eyes widened.

"Oh."

"Good oh?"

"Very good oh."

"That's the technical term?"

"Extremely technical."

Chloe stepped closer to inspect the cake.

"Wow."

Mia's nerves loosened slightly.

"Really?"

"Really. It looks expensive."

"That's because it is."

Chloe looked at her.

"That's not reassuring."

Mia laughed again.

For a few minutes, the two women worked side by side.

They carried trays outside.

They arranged tasting plates.

They wiped fingerprints from the display case.

They greeted customers.

The bakery filled with the warm, sweet smell of pastries and conversation.

It was everything Mia had imagined.

Maybe today would be the day people stopped thinking of her as simply the woman who owned the little bakery on the corner.

Maybe today would be the beginning of something bigger.

She was carrying a tray of sample cakes toward the dessert counter when she heard a voice behind her.

"You're Mia Rossi."

She turned.

Harrison Finch stood there.

Up close, he was even more intimidating.

His eyes moved slowly around the bakery.

The shelves.

The ovens.

The display cases.

The cake.

Then back to Mia.

"Yes."

"I've heard about this place."

Mia swallowed.

"Good things?"

His mouth twitched.

"I didn't say that."

Chloe stopped moving.

Mia felt heat rise into her cheeks.

Harrison stepped toward the display.

"The Lavender Honey Dream Cake?"

"Yes."

"Your signature?"

"For the festival."

He studied it through the glass.

"Interesting."

Mia wasn't sure whether that was a compliment.

"Would you like a sample?"

"I'll decide."

And with that, he walked away.

Chloe leaned toward Mia.

"I already hate him."

Mia whispered, "You're not supposed to say that."

"I whispered."

"People can still hear you."

"Then they should mind their business."

Mia tried not to smile.

She looked back toward Harrison.

He was speaking to someone near the main stage now.

A man stood beside him.

Greg, Mia remembered.

Harrison's assistant.

Greg was younger, perhaps in his thirties, with nervous eyes and a permanent crease between his eyebrows. Mia had seen him around town before.

Harrison said something sharply.

Greg responded.

Harrison shook his head.

Then, unexpectedly, he grabbed Greg by the arm.

Greg pulled away.

The two men argued.

Mia frowned.

"What was that about?"

Chloe followed her gaze.

"Trouble in paradise?"

"Maybe."

Before Mia could watch any longer, a customer stepped in front of her.

"Excuse me! Is that lavender cake?"

Mia turned immediately.

"Yes."

"Can I try some?"

"Of course."

And just like that, she was busy again.

The festival grew louder.

The bakery filled.

People came in from the street, tasted pastries, laughed, talked, and wandered back outside.

Mia barely had time to breathe.

Her cake was a hit.

People loved it.

One woman actually closed her eyes after taking the first bite.

"Oh my goodness."

Mia grinned.

"Too much lavender?"

"No. Perfect."

Another customer asked where she could buy an entire cake.

Mia's confidence rose.

Maybe Harrison Finch would like it after all.

Maybe—

A scream split the air.

Mia froze.

The bakery went silent.

For one strange second, the entire world seemed to hold its breath.

Then people began shouting.

"What happened?"

"Someone call the sheriff!"

"Move!"

Mia looked toward the bakery entrance.

A crowd had gathered outside.

Chloe grabbed her arm.

"What was that?"

"I don't know."

They hurried outside.

Mia pushed through the crowd.

People were gathered near the dessert counter at the far end of the bakery.

A woman was crying.

Someone was saying, "Don't touch him."

Mia's heart began pounding.

She pushed forward.

And then she saw him.

Harrison Finch lay on the floor.

His cream-colored jacket was spread awkwardly around him.

One hand rested against the wooden floor.

His eyes were closed.

A tasting plate lay overturned beside him.

A small fork had rolled beneath the counter.

Mia stopped breathing.

"No."

Chloe whispered, "Oh my God."

Mia took one step forward.

Then another.

"Harrison?"

There was no response.

Someone in the crowd shouted, "He's dead!"

The words seemed to echo through the bakery.

Dead.

Mia stared.

This couldn't be happening.

Not here.

Not today.

Not in her bakery.

A festival volunteer rushed toward the door.

"Get the sheriff!"

Mia barely heard her.

Her gaze had fixed on the dessert counter.

Something was wrong.

Something didn't belong.

And then—

Gingersnap moved.

The cat had been lounging in the sunny window only moments earlier.

Now he launched himself from the cushion.

He sprinted across the bakery.

"Gingersnap!"

He didn't stop.

He raced straight toward the dessert counter.

People stepped aside as he darted between their feet.

Then he stopped beside the body.

His fur stood on end.

He stared at something beneath the counter.

A small glass jar lay on its side.

Its lid had come loose.

A faint dusting of dark brown spice had spilled onto the floor.

Gingersnap sniffed it.

Then he began pawing at it.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Frantically.

"Gingersnap, no!"

Mia rushed forward and scooped him up.

The cat twisted in her arms, staring down at the jar.

"What is it?"

Gingersnap gave a sharp, irritated meow.

Mia looked at the label.

She didn't recognize the name immediately.

It was something she had seen before, perhaps in a specialty ingredient catalog, but never used in her own recipes.

A rare imported spice.

The jar had clearly been knocked over during the commotion.

Mia stared at it.

Then at Harrison.

Then back at the jar.

A cold feeling settled in her stomach.

"Was this..."

She didn't finish the thought.

Sirens sounded outside.

A few moments later, Sheriff Daniel Briggs pushed through the crowd.

"Everyone move back."

His voice silenced the room.

Two deputies followed him inside.

Sheriff Briggs knelt beside Harrison and checked for a pulse.

His expression hardened.

He stood.

"Nobody leaves."

A murmur passed through the crowd.

Mia tightened her arms around Gingersnap.

The cat had stopped struggling.

He stared at the overturned spice jar.

Sheriff Briggs looked around the bakery.

Then his eyes landed on Mia.

"Mia Rossi?"

"Yes."

"You're the owner?"

"Yes."

He approached.

"Did you know Harrison Finch?"

"Not really."

"You spoke with him today?"

Mia hesitated.

"Yes."

"When?"

"This morning."

"What did you discuss?"

"Nothing important. He asked about my cake."

Sheriff Briggs looked toward the dessert counter.

"Your cake?"

"Yes."

"Was Harrison eating it?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I was busy. There were people everywhere."

Briggs studied her.

Mia suddenly felt as though every pair of eyes in the bakery was on her.

She shifted Gingersnap in her arms.

"I didn't do anything."

"I didn't accuse you of anything."

Mia looked away.

The sheriff continued.

"Did anyone argue with Harrison today?"

Mia thought of Greg.

She thought of the way Harrison had grabbed his arm.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"His assistant. Greg."

"Anything else?"

Mia hesitated.

"Not that I saw."

Sheriff Briggs glanced toward the counter.

"Did anyone have access to the food?"

"It's a bakery. Everyone had access to the food."

His expression didn't change.

Mia's stomach twisted.

Behind the sheriff, Chloe stood completely still.

Gingersnap suddenly lifted his head.

His eyes locked onto the overturned jar.

Mia followed his gaze.

The strange spice.

The dead man.

The dessert counter.

The festival.

Something had happened here.

Something terrible.

And somehow, her little bakery was at the center of it.

Sheriff Briggs pulled a small notebook from his pocket.

"Ms. Rossi, I'm going to need you to answer some more questions."

Mia stared at him.

Her hands trembled beneath Gingersnap's warm body.

Outside, the festival music had stopped.

The laughter was gone.

The smell of lavender and honey still lingered in the air, sweet and innocent.

But nothing felt innocent anymore.

Mia looked at the body of Harrison Finch.

Then at the overturned jar.

Then at her cat, whose golden eyes remained fixed on the strange spice as though he knew something she didn't.

A horrible thought settled into her mind.

Someone had killed Harrison Finch.

And they had done it here.

In her bakery.

Mia swallowed hard.

Who would do this, and in my bakery?