Trick or Murder: A Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery Book 12 by Point Rosie A

Author:Point, Rosie A.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-28T00:00:00+00:00

10

Another day on the truck arrived, and with the view of the haunted house packing up. Staff members crawled over the structure, helping take it down and pack it into a waiting truck. It was fascinating to watch the process, and the staff members came over often to grab a drink or a bite to eat on their breaks.

“Pity they’re leaving,” Bee said, “it was such an experience having them here. Apart from that first night, obviously.”

“Yeah.” I handed a customer a cup of coffee and a Bite-sized Bakery box with donuts inside. “I’d like things to get back to normal around here.”

“Oh please, you love Halloween.”

“I do,” I said, “but I’d prefer less screaming while we serve cakes.”

“You’re just mad because of that.” Bee jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the specials board. Bee had pinned the picture of me having the scare of my life to the top corner of it.

I had to admit, it was pretty funny.

The photograph had caught me mid-scream, my hands grabbing for the clown’s arms, while he held the fake knife over my head, an evil grin on his disfigured lips.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Never,” Bee agreed, chuckling. My friend had been reserved lately, apart from when we’d gotten our palms read, and it was nice to see her smiling. If only I could figure out what had changed over the past couple days. Could there be a deeper reason for why she’d wanted to go to the fortuneteller?

I let go of the worries and continued serving our customers. I’d started getting used to the familiar faces of the locals. That was one of my favorite parts of arriving in a new town—learning more about the strange characters that inhabited them.

Halfway through our morning rush, a handsome man with perfectly coiffed brown hair stepped up to the front of the truck. He gave us a winning smile, and I stifled a gasp.

It was Stormy Winters, the weatherman. He was famous around these parts.

Bee made a soft cooing noise.

“Good morning, lovely ladies,” Stormy said, in his cheesy weatherman voice. “I finally get to meet you two. I’ve heard a lot about this food truck.”

“You have?” Bee asked, growing red in the cheeks.

“Oh yes. People in this town tend to talk, a lot.” He laughed.

“Is the studio here?” I asked.

“Why no, of course not,” he laughed. “I’m here visiting family. Well-earned break. And my uncle told me all about your delicious treats.” He raised his eyebrows and wiggled them at Bee.

She covered her mouth with her hand.

It was my turn to chuckle at her. “Thanks for the kind words. What can we get for you?” I asked.

“I’ll take a—”

A siren whooped in the street that ran past the town square, and two police cars pulled up, their lights flashing. Police officers jumped out, yelling, and Stormy turned and back-pedaled right into the truck, pale as a ghost.

But the cops weren’t here for him.

The activity was centered around a cream camper—the police officers demanded the person get out.

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