Devil’s Food Cake and Death: A Bee’s Bakery Cozy Mystery Book 3 by Point Rosie A

Author:Point, Rosie A.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

A thunderous knocking woke me from my dead sleep.

My eyes flicked open in the half-gloom in my tiny bedroom, and I frowned, pushing myself upright. Caramel yipped a bark from the end of my bed. The knocking came a second time, a banging that penetrated the peace of my little cottage.

“Oh, somebody’s head is about to roll,” I grunted.

According to Ruby, I was “not a morning person.” According to me, I liked what little beauty sleep I could get, and anyone who interfered with that would get the dragon rather than the princess.

I clambered out of bed and into my slippers and robe, casting a bleary-eyed glance at the red numbers on the alarm clock on my bedside table.

It was 07:00 a.m. A devilish hour.

The banging came a third time and was followed by. “Mystery Police Department. Open the door.”

That only served to heighten my anger.

I marched out of the bedroom, Caramel following behind me, tail alert.

I wrenched open my front door and found Detective Rourke, his fist raised in his bid to “disturb the peace.”

“What on earth are you doing?” I asked. “Have you lost what little mind you have left?”

“Miss Pine,” he said.

“That much is obvious. What is not obvious is why you’re standing on my front step, ramming your meaty, neanderthal knuckles against the precious wood of my door.”

Rourke blinked, temporarily thrown off his game.

“Sorry for waking you, Miss Pine,” he said.

“Waking me? Waking me?” The unadulterated audacity of the man. “You didn’t wake me. You abruptly ejected me from the REM cycle of my sleep. Did you know it’s dangerous to do that to a person? I could have died. I could have had a heart attack. And what then? I suppose you wouldn’t have been held liable, would you? So why would you care?”

Caramel let out several yipping barks in support of my argument.

“Something has happened.”

“That’s true of every second of every day,” I said.

Rourke’s mean face folded into an expression of intense confusion. If anything, it improved his overall look. “What do—?”

“Right now, something is happening,” I said. “That something being you interrupting my sleep and ruining the start of my day. All across the world, things are happening. A bird just pooped on someone’s car. A baby is crying. I’d wager somewhere in Australia, someone’s fighting a kangaroo. So unless your ‘something’ is sufficiently important, you had better turn around and leave me to what’s left of my shattered morning.”

“You really don’t like being woken up,” Rourke said, on the timid back foot.

“Your deductive reasoning skills are astounding. That must be why you’re a detective.”

Rourke blushed. “Ma’am, a man, Nate Blythe, has disappeared,” he said.

Caramel fell silent, and so did I.

It was an important “something” after all.

“And I need to take you down to the station for an interview, as you and your friend were two of the last people to talk to him. And you were seen at his house yesterday afternoon.”

I tucked my robe tighter against my chest and let out a sigh.

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