Influencer-turned-bakery-owner Maddy Montgomery has sold plenty of wedding cakes before, but before she turns one out for her and her fiancé’s wedding, she’ll have to solve a little case of murder . . .
Aunt Octavia would be so proud! Maddy has turned Baby Cakes Bakery—named for her 250-pound English Mastiff, Baby—into a runaway success, and she’s marrying the love of her life, veterinarian Michael Portman. #DreamWedding! Plus the timing couldn’t be better: the country’s biggest bridal expo has come to New Bison, Michigan, and Maddy has secured a spot for Baby Cakes to showcase their cakes. She’s also entered a contest for an all-expenses-paid wedding extravaganza offered by world-renowned wedding planner Serafina.
Unfortunately, supremely nasty Serafina truly takes the cake—she makes the worst bridezilla seem like a shy flower girl. But there’s one thing the wedding planner didn’t plan on—being impaled by one of the skewers Baby Cakes uses on their tiered wedding cakes.
While Maid of Honor Sheriff April Johnson rounds up suspects at the expo, Maddy and her aunt’s friends, the Baker Street Irregulars, and even Baby join forces to unveil a killer hiding in plain sight . . . before wedding bells start to chime.
Publisher:
Kensington Books
Print pages:
272
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“Ladies and gentlemen, all the way from New Bison, Michigan, it’s time for the main event. Army versus Navy in the battle of the century.” Tyler Lawrence paused dramatically before continuing. “Now, let’s get ready to rum-bullll!” He drew the last syllable out for a long time in his best impersonation of Michael Buffer, the wrestling and boxer announcer.
I wasn’t a fan of either sport. Having grown up on a naval base surrounded by sailors, even a fashionista like me recognized the phrase. I was surprised by Tyler’s performance. He was normally a quiet man of few words, but ever since he took on the added responsibility of acting mayor in addition to his shop, he’s been much more outgoing.
With his fist to his mouth as if he were holding a microphone, Tyler Lawrence moved around the large dining room table and stood in front of Michael. “In this corner, at six feet tall and weighing in at . . . ?”
“Two hundred five pounds.” Michael stretched his neck to the side in the way I’d seen professional athletes do in preparing to compete. His neck cracked, and he grinned across the table at me.
“We have Army veteran and renowned local veterinarian, Dr. Michael ‘The Man’ Portman.” Tyler cheered and smacked Michael on the back.
My head baker and friend, Leroy Danielson, stood behind Michael and massaged his shoulders like a trainer preparing a boxer to enter the ring.
Tyler went back around the table. “In this corner, at five-feet-four-inches tall and weighing in at . . . ?” He stuck his fist in front of my face.
“None of your business,” I said.
“Representing the Navy in this battle, we have the daughter of Navy Admiral Jefferson Augustus Montgomery. Fashionista, social media influencer, entrepreneur, and owner of Baby Cakes Bakery, Madison ‘The Squid’ Montgomery.” Tyler cheered.
“Don’t call me Squid.”
April Johnson was the sheriff, my tenant, and, most importantly, my friend. She chuckled and reached over and fluffed my hair. At nearly six feet tall, with gray eyes and dark wavy hair, she was stunning. April often downplayed her beauty by pulling her hair back into a bun and wearing very little makeup. On the rare occasions when she allowed herself to be a normal human instead of a sheriff, and wore makeup and flattering clothes instead of a uniform, she was a knockout. Today was Sunday. April was off duty and looked like a model.
“This is a lot of foolishness,” Hannah Portman said. She sat at the head of the dining room table and sipped her coffee.
Hannah was Michael’s grandmother and one of the Baby Cakes bakers. She had been best friends with my Great-Aunt Octavia, who started Baby Cakes and from whom I’d inherited it.
“April, don’t encourage this nonsense,” Hannah Portman said. “If we’re done with our Sunday meeting, then we can go and let Maddy and Michael work out the details of their budget without an audience.”
“But we were just getting to the good part,” Tyler said.
Hannah Portman was an older Black woman who had mastered “the look.” She fixed her gaze onto him, and he immediately stopped. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tyler dropped his hand with the invisible microphone, rose, and started to clear the table.
Leroy Danielson snickered. Big mistake.
“And you can take Baby outside to do his business.” Hannah put one hand on her hip. Her look dared him to argue.
Thankfully, both Tyler and Leroy knew where to draw the line.
Leroy patted his leg. “Come on, Baby.”
Baby had been trained by Great-Aunt Octavia. He took a moment to stretch but then trotted next to Leroy, lining his right shoulder up with Leroy’s leg and sitting patiently while staring up at Leroy for his next command.
Leroy smiled down at Baby. “Baby, heel.”
Baby kept his shoulder lined up with Leroy’s leg and adjusted his gait to match. The two walked out of the dining room, and I heard the door open and knew they were outside.
“Humph,” Hannah said. “Now, you two have work to do, and you don’t need an audience to do it.” Her gaze moved from Michael to me. Then, she picked up a pitcher of orange juice and a plate and left.
April rose and picked up a casserole dish and the remaining plates. “I’m going before she comes back.”
When April had run for sheriff of New Bison, Michigan, she wasn’t a trained policeman. In fact, she actually entered the race more from a need to prove that she could. The desire came after she’d entered the race. Her experience in beauty pageants and the support of Great-Aunt Octavia propelled her to victory. When she won, she went through training and learned the job. It turned out well. April found her calling and turned out to be a great sheriff, even though she lacked confidence. So each Sunday, Great-Aunt Octavia invited April and her other close friends over for brunch, and they discussed any hard cases. The New Bison version of Sherlock Holmes’s Baker Street Irregulars was born. Now, even though Great-Aunt Octavia was gone and it was a weekday, the group still met whenever there were difficult problems to be solved.
Today’s problem wasn’t a crime, but figuring out the budget for Michael and my wedding might lead to bloodshed.
“Okay, Squid,” Michael said. “What’s the big problem?”
“What are you talking about? And don’t call me Squid.”
The various branches of the military had a number of names for one another. Most were benign. Michael and I often tossed them around as we bickered. Squid was his favorite term of endearment, and I didn’t mind it any more than he minded when I called him a grunt or dumb Joe. However, while engaged in tactical negotiations, I wasn’t ready to concede anything, yet.
“I had hoped we could spend this afternoon doing . . . other things.” Michael grinned, and a wave of heat rose up my neck.
“We have business to take care of first, soldier.” I squinted. “So, keep your mind focused on the mission at hand, and maybe we can get to some of those . . . ‘other things’ later.”
Michael snapped to attention and saluted. “Sir. Yes, sir.”
“There’s a bridal expo at the casino, and I plan on attending. You’ll never guess who’s going to be there.”
Michael raised a brow. “You’re right. I can’t guess, so you better tell me.”
“Serafina,” I whispered as though afraid someone would overhear. I waited for a reaction. When none came, I repeated myself. “The Serafina.”
Michael shrugged. “Should I know who that is?”
I pulled out my phone. “You have got to be kidding. Everyone knows Serafina. She’s only the biggest, most amazing wedding planner on the planet. She’s planned weddings for celebrities all over the world.” I held up my phone and showed him photos. “She’s planned weddings for Austrian royalty, A-list celebrities, an Arab sheik, and even two past presidents. Last year, she planned a wedding at an ice cave in Greenland, and the year before that, she planned a wedding on an active volcano.”
“What does any of that have to do with us? We agreed that we’d have a small wedding, right here in New Bison. No ice caves. No volcanoes.”
I leaned forward. “Rumor has it that she’s looking for a new challenge.”
“Rumor?”
“You remember Jessica Barlow? She’s Carson Law’s assistant. Well, she heard on the down-low from a friend who does Serafina’s makeup that she is planning to pick a winner at one of her bridal expos and do a reality wedding—”
“No!”
“But you don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want a live-streamed, reality-TV spectacle wedding.” Michael frowned. “Frankly, given what happened the last time you were engaged, I wouldn’t think you’d want to go through that again, either.”
I rose, but Michael was there to stop me. “Maddy, wait. I’m sorry.” He tilted my chin up to force me to look in his eyes. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I didn’t say I wanted a live-streamed wedding. I don’t.”
“Okay, what do you want?”
I took a deep breath. “I’ve dreamed of my wedding day since I was a little girl. It’s the one day when you get to be Cinderella. . . a princess.”
“Can’t you be a Cinderella without a live-stream video feed?” Michael rubbed the back of his neck.
“I can, but according to Great Lakes Bridal magazine, we have to establish a budget. So, here’s what I was thinking.” I slid my phone over, showing him the spreadsheet I’d worked on all night.
Michael sat down, picked up his coffee cup, and then skimmed over the numbers. He stopped and stared, and a red ball rose up his neck and onto his face. His eyes bulged. “You want to spend how much on a wedding dress?” Michael had only seconds earlier taken a sip of coffee. The shock must have forced the liquid down the wrong pipe. He broke into a coughing fit. His eyes watered, and his face got red—not an easy feat for a Black man.
I pounded him on the back. “Am I supposed to slap you? Or put a paper bag over your head?”
“Neither.” Terror flashed across his face, and he slid off his chair and increased the distance between us. He reached over and grabbed a glass of water. After taking a few sips, his coughing slowed down. “Putting a bag over my head? Are you trying to suffocate me?”
“How am I supposed to know? You’re the doctor, not me.” I shrugged. “Maybe you’re supposed to breathe into a paper bag.”
“That’s an old trick for hyperventilation.”
“Just the thought that I might put a bag over your head worked, didn’t it?” I grinned.
Michael leaned back in his chair and stared. “And slapping me? What was that supposed to do?”
“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for shock?”
“Another antiquated idea. You should never slap someone, especially someone who’s hysterical.”
“Good to know. Although it’s what they always did in movies.”
“And for the record, I wasn’t hysterical.” Michael reached over and pulled me into his arms. After a few moments, he pulled back and gave me a hard stare. “Maddy, listen. I know that you’ve lived a life with very few limits where money was concerned. Your dad was extremely generous.”
“You think the Admiral spoiled me?” I pulled back and searched his face.
“I prefer the term overindulged rather than spoiled. Spoiled implies something has gone bad, and I don’t believe that. But, we’re going to have to live within our means. Between my veterinary practice and what you make at Baby Cakes, that’s it.”
“But, the Admiral is willing to pay for the wedding. We could—”
Michael was shaking his head before the words were out of my mouth. “Absolutely not.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Why not? He wants to do it. It’ll be our wedding present.”
“You’re twenty-eight, and I’m thirty. We’re not kids just out of college who need their parents to pay for an entire wedding. Besides, spending the kind of money you’re talking about is just wasteful.”
“It’s our wedding—the only one we’ll ever have.”
“It better be,” Michael joked.
“Don’t you want it to be memorable? Special? Something that fifty years from now, when we’re old and gray, we can sit in our rocking chairs on the front porch and look back at the memory of our special day with pride?”
“Yes, but fifty years from now, when we’re old and gray, I don’t want to still be paying for the wedding either.”
“But—”
“Maddy, I’m not suggesting we get married at a fast-food restaurant with paper plates and plastic forks. Although, I’d be fine with that by the way.”
“Well, I won’t.” I frowned.
“I know.” Michael laughed. “I didn’t fall in love with a plastic fork kind of girl.” Michael placed his forehead against mine. “Can we compromise?”
“How?”
The Army and Navy went to work. We put our heads together and came up with a plan that would have put the Treaty of Versailles to shame.
“You look worn out. I can’t believe you and Michael spent three hours coming up with a budget that both of you could agree on.” April sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee.
“Congress has an easier time coming up with the annual budget for the entire country, but we managed it.” I stretched.
April reviewed the spreadsheet on my phone. “How’d you do it?”
“After the first couple of hours, we weren’t gaining ground. So, I took a lesson from the Admiral and decided to regroup. We each wrote down our deal-breakers. Michael’s list was easy.”
April scanned down. “No live-streamed wedding.”
“That was a piece of cake. After everything I went through last time, I’m fine without having millions of strangers watch. So, check.”
“Chocolate Soul Cake?” April looked up at me. “Everyone loves the Chocolate Soul Cake, but I thought you wanted to try some other flavors.”
“I do. That was another area of negotiation. We’re going to have multiple tiers. Michael agreed that as long as one layer was Chocolate Soul Cake, then he didn’t care what the rest of the cake was.”
“That’s good.” April smiled. “Leroy would be so disappointed if he didn’t get to try out some of the new flavors he’s been experimenting with.”
“I’ve been looking at pictures, watching videos, and surfing the web for everything I can find on the new trends for wedding cakes. Some of the top cake designers have been trying different flavors and decorating techniques that we need to try. I mean, I do own a bakery. So, the chocolate cake is fine. It’s on the inside. No one will see it. The important part is really the outside of the cake, and I think we can make it look beautiful no matter what flavors we come up with.”
“You’re getting really good with watercolor cake painting. I saw the video you uploaded last week.”
“I studied art history in college. I guess a bit must have rubbed off. Plus, it’s fun, and if I mess up, I can always scrape it off and start over or just eat the mistakes. So, at least one layer of Chocolate Soul Cake. Check.”
“No penguin suit? Seriously, you aren’t going to make him wear a tux?” April held out her hand and checked my forehead to see if I was running a temperature.
“I’m not sick. That was actually the easiest concession to make. Both the Admiral and Michael are active military and can wear mess dress.”
“What on earth is mess dress?”
“The formal attire that all branches of the military are allowed to wear instead of tuxedos to formal affairs. The Admiral will be in Navy mess dress, and Michael’s will be Army, but that won’t matter. Both branches have a blue option, so it’ll be fine. Michael’s pants might be lighter blue than the Admiral’s, but both branches are allowed to swap the pants for white. That means if we go with the white pants, the wedding will need to take place before Labor Day. Check.”
April stared at me with awe. “I had forgotten that Michael is in the reserves, so still active duty. Good call.” April stared at the list. “What was on your list?”
“I want a wedding planner to help with the decisions, and Michael was okay with it as long as I stayed within budget.” I pointed to the line with the budget amount.
April’s eyes expanded. “Can you do that?”
“I can with one other concession.” I paused for a beat. “The Admiral’s wedding gift will be my dress. He wanted to pay for the entire wedding, so he will save a ton. Plus, I won’t have to buy a wedding dress from Walmart.”
“One of the biggest expenses is the wedding dress. What was your dress like before? You know, the one you had for Elliott, if you don’t mind talking about it.”
Before coming to New Bison, I had been engaged to who I thought was the man of my dreams—a doctor. Elliott, the man I thought was Dr. Right, was actually Dr. Completely Wrong. It turned out I was more in love with the idea of marrying a doctor than the actual person. Elliott wasn’t interested in marrying me either. I learned that when he didn’t bother showing up for our live-streamed wedding. That humiliation led me to look for an out-of-the-way rock that I could hide under until the social media attention died down. Nothing else could have convinced me to leave the excitement of my life in L.A. to come to the obscurity of New Bison, Michigan. But, when Great-Aunt Octavia died and left me her house, bakery, and two-hundred-fifty-pound English mastiff, I saw my chance and jumped at it. Moving to New Bison turned out to be the best thing I could have done. This is where I met and fell in love with Michael Portman, whom I love with all of my heart. In the end, it worked out well.
“The Admiral spent a small fortune on that dress. It was handmade in Paris and had a fifteen-foot train. It was gorgeous.”
“Wow. Couldn’t you wear—”
“Nope. No way. Nein. Certainement pas. Ni za chto. Za nic w wiecie! Absolutely not. That dress holds too many bad memories. Wearing it again is out of the question.”
April held up her hands in surrender. “Point taken.”
“Besides, it’s too elaborate for New Bison.”
April scanned the spreadsheet. “I still don’t see how you plan to stay within budget.”
“That’s because I have a secret.” I grinned. “The Admiral always said you never go into a conflict without an ace up your sleeve.”
“Okay. What’s your ace?”
“The venue. Carson Law is going to l. . .
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