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  An Amish Cupcake Cozy Mystery

  Ruth Hartzler

  Previous Confections: An Amish Cupcake Cozy Mystery

  (Amish Cupcake Cozy Mystery Book 2)

  Ruth Hartzler

  Copyright © 2019 Ruth Hartzler

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN 978-1-925674-92-7

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version® (ESV®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The personal names have been invented by the author, and any likeness to the name of any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Amish Recipe

  Amish Recipe

  Connect with Ruth Hartzler

  Next Book in This Series

  Other Books by Ruth Hartzler

  About Ruth Hartzler

  Chapter 1

  I was sitting in a fancy French restaurant. I hadn’t been in a restaurant since my fiftieth birthday, when my then-husband Ted had told me he was going to divorce me and marry a college student named Cherri who was expecting his baby.

  I never thought I would see Ted again, much less be invited to dinner with him in a restaurant. I no longer had feelings for him, but my stomach churned at the thought of seeing him again. Ted had called unexpectedly to demand I sign papers. I had called my divorce lawyer who had advised me not to sign and had given me the name of a local lawyer here in Lancaster. The local lawyer had also told me not to sign and advised me to take the papers to him.

  I looked at my watch again. Ted was five minutes late. I looked around the restaurant. Ted had assured me he wouldn’t run out and leave me with the bill this time. That was just as well as I imagined the prices here were quite high. The wooden tables appeared to be of bur walnut or similar timber, and the walls were burnished copper with art installations made from copper and brass.

  The lights were of unusual geometric designs, and the entire restaurant lighting was muted, no doubt in part due to the wall sconces which held real candles. I idly watched the flames playing along the walls as I snuggled into my chair. It was comfortable with a nicely padded back. Soft music settled my nerves, at least to a degree.

  The entire ambience was delightful, and I wished I had been here on a date with a nice man, not waiting for my ex-husband who would no doubt turn nasty and demand I sign the papers. My mind drifted away to the person of Damon McCloud, the Scottish detective I had met recently.

  I would have preferred lunch to dinner, but my twin sister Rebecca had broken her arm the previous day and had left me in charge of her Amish cupcake store.

  My flatmates Eleanor and Matilda, ladies in their eighties, had offered their help, but Rebecca had suggested to me that they shouldn’t help too much. I had no idea why, only that it had something to do with a previous incident that no one wanted to tell me about.

  I was looking at my watch once more when I heard someone clearing their throat. My blood ran cold. It was Ted.

  At Ted’s shoulder was a tall, impossibly stick-thin woman who looked like a supermodel. Heavy musk perfume emanated from her in waves, and her dress was so tight I wondered how she had managed to pour herself into it.

  “Jane, you’re here,” Ted said, stating the obvious.

  “You’re late,” I said in the most accusatory tone I could muster.

  “Well, I’m here on business of course,” Ted said. “I invited you along to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. I would like you to meet my wife, Cherri.”

  I stared at Cherri, my mouth open. So this is what the other woman looked like! She was less than half my age, probably closer to one-third of my age. I shook my head to clear it, when I realized Cherri was speaking.

  She extended her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Jane.”

  I shook her hand, noticing the limp handshake. “Nice to meet you too,” I lied. I mean, what was I supposed to say to the woman who had been my husband’s mistress for several months while I was married to him? I supposed there was no etiquette book for that.

  “Where’s the baby?” I asked her.

  Cherri looked surprised. “Sunshine? Oh, she’s back in New York with our nanny.”

  I wondered if the nanny was younger and better looking than Cherri. Maybe the nanny would be my ex-husband’s new conquest. If Cherri had any sense, she would have hired someone who was entirely unattractive.

  Ted sat down. “Have you decided what you’re eating yet, Jane?” he asked, looking at his watch and then checking his phone. He turned to Cherri and spoke in a far different tone. “And what would you like to eat, Pumpkin? Take your time.”

  Cherri giggled. “I already know what I’d like, Popsicle. I studied the menu online before we came. I’ll have the Beef Carpaccio, and for the main I’ll have the Pheasant Roulade.”

  “What about you, Jane?” Ted snapped before looking at his watch again.

  “I didn’t study the menu online first,” I said, casting a quick glance at the menu. “I’ll have the Oyster Crudo followed by the Lemon Sole Veronique.” I didn’t particularly like oysters and I didn’t know what the Lemon Sole Veronique was as the description was in French, but they were the most expensive things on the menu and Ted had said he was paying.

  After we ordered, Ted said, “Excuse me. While we wait for our meals, I need to converse with my clients. You two can chat.” With that, he left the table and hurried away.

  Could this be more awkward? I was sitting with my husband’s former mistress, now his wife, and I wanted the floor to open up swallow me, but Cherri did not appear awkward at all. “So Jane, have you turned Amish again?”

  Was I imagining it, or was she staring at my clothes? Sure, I had made my own dress, but I thought it was quite nice, a far cry from a long plain dress, apron, prayer kapp and sensible shoes. I reminded myself that Cherri would not know what Amish women wore. I shook my head. “No, I left the Amish after my rumspringa when I was sixteen. My twin sister and her family are Amish.”

  Cherri did not respond but posed another question. “Have you lived in Lancaster for long?”

  “Since Ted and I separated,” I said, wondering if it would embarrass her. “Why are you both here in town?”

  Cherri leaned forward and addressed me in a conspiratorial manner. “Melissa and Marcus Matheson own this restaurant. They’ve come here from New York to check on it.”

  “Oh,” I said, although Cherri seemed to think I should be impressed.

  Cherri pushed on. “Melissa and Marcus are ever so rich, you see. They’re rolling in it, if you get what I mean.” She broke off and giggled. “Ted has known them for many years. Surely you know the Mathesons?”

  I had to admit that I didn’t.

  Cherri was obviously surprised at my ignorance. “Why Jane darling, the
y’re ever so rich,” she said yet again. “They have a restaurant in New York as well. They’ve sent their top chef, Brendan Bowles, here a while ago to get the restaurant going. Have you heard of him?”

  I said I hadn’t heard of him either.

  Cherri’s hand flew to her throat. “Oh, he’s so good. He trained in France, and this is a French restaurant.” She gestured around the room expansively.

  At that moment Ted appeared at the table. “Melissa and Marcus insist upon joining us with their business partners,” he said in a disapproving tone. He adjusted his tie with his right hand and his cheeks puffed up.

  I could see he was embarrassed by my presence, but I really didn’t care.

  “They’ll be joining us soon, Jane, so I’ll need you to sign these papers now.”

  “What papers are they?” I asked him.

  “Nothing you’d understand,” he said in a derogatory tone. “It’s about the family trust.” He handed me a bunch of papers.

  I immediately put them in my purse.

  “Why did you take them? You’re supposed to sign them and give them back to me.”

  I shot him my best fake smile. “Oh Ted, you and I were married all those years and you’re a top lawyer. If there’s one thing I learned from you, it’s never to sign anything without a lawyer looking over it first. No, my lawyer will be having a good look at this.”

  “And what is the name of your lawyer?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “Never you mind,” I said. I noticed Ted’s cheeks had puffed out even further and red splotches appeared on his face. Did he really think I was so stupid as to sign something without my lawyer looking at it first? Well, it appeared that he did. I thought he was about to say something nasty when Cherri said, “Here are Melissa and Marcus now.”

  Ted shot me a nasty look and then hissed, “I’ll speak to you later.”

  “No need,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. “I’ll contact you after my lawyer has viewed whatever you want me to sign.”

  Two couples arrived at the table at that moment. All four appeared about the same age, although one displayed an inordinate amount of plastic surgery. Her hair extensions did not look at all realistic and she was covered with heavy and garish jewelry. Her plunging neckline left nothing to the imagination and her lace dress was altogether too short. The man with her looked old enough to be her grandfather and was rather portly, with a big, bulbous red nose and a flushed face. If he’d had a beard, he would look like Santa Claus.

  The other couple appeared rather more distinguished. The lady was wearing a tasteful blue dress and her husband looked like a distinguished businessman.

  Ted wasted no time in doing the introductions. “Melissa and Marcus, I’d like you to meet my ex-wife, Jane…” His voice trailed away. “Jane, do you still have my surname?” His tone was one of a child asking another child if they still had their toy.

  I was embarrassed to admit I still did have his name. “Yes, I’m afraid I do,” I said with a sigh.

  Ted looked quite put out. “Well then, Melissa and Marcus, I’d like you to meet my ex-wife, Jane Delight. Jane, this is Melissa and Marcus Matheson.” He turned to the other couple. “Candace and Rick, I’d like you to meet my ex-wife, Jane Delight. Jane, this is Candace and Rick Weatherspoon.”

  We all exchanged pleasantries. All four of them were looking at me with curiosity plastered all over their faces.

  As soon as they took their seats, Candace, the scantily dressed one, leaned forward and said, “How long have you two been divorced?”

  “A long time,” Ted said before I could answer. “Jane is here tonight because I needed her to sign some papers for me and I very rarely come to Pennsylvania.”

  Marcus smiled at me. “So how do you like our restaurant so far?”

  “It’s absolutely beautiful,” I said honestly.

  “Melissa and Marcus own the restaurant and Candace and Rick are their business partners,” Cherri supplied.

  I shot her a grateful smile. At least someone had filled me in. The waiter arrived with champagne for everyone. “I hope you like Armand de Brignac,” Marcus said, indicating a golden champagne bottle.

  I simply smiled at him. My nerves had made me go hot all over—or maybe I was having a hot flush?—and I wanted nothing more than to drink a gallon of iced water. Before anyone could drink the champagne, a man in chef whites appeared at the table. “Brendan,” Marcus said. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet the famous Brendan Bowles.”

  A distinguished man, Brendan gave a half bow while Marcus made the introductions.

  “Brendan, please join us for a toast,” Marcus said.

  Just then, there was a loud sound of smashed glass. We all turned to look. The waiter who had brought our champagne was standing against a wall, looking shocked. Broken glass was lying shattered all over the floor. The customer who had knocked into the waiter hurried away without so much as an apology or a backward look.

  Melissa and Marcus looked visibly annoyed, but Marcus recovered quickly.

  “I’d like to propose a toast,” Marcus said. “To the success of our restaurant!”

  They all raised their glasses. I set down my iced water and picked up my champagne glass.

  Moments later, Marcus clutched his throat and fell to the ground.

  Everyone jumped to their feet. Melissa ran over to her husband. “Call 911,” Melissa called out to Ted who wasted no time in doing so.

  “What happened?” the waiter said. He was doing his best to shake off Candace, who was clinging to him, her jaw dropped open.

  Melissa grabbed his arm and then collapsed into him. “My husband! He’s dead!”

  Ted looked at me. “This is your fault, Jane!” he exclaimed.

  Chapter 2

  Everyone in the restaurant turned to look at me. I clutched my throat and backed away. “My fault?” I repeated. I was in shock.

  “Don’t be so silly, Popsicle. Of course it’s not Jane’s fault. Why would you say such a thing?” It took me a moment or two to realize it was Cherri who had come to my rescue.

  “Everything is Jane’s fault,” Ted muttered. “I wanted to have a quiet chat with Marcus and Melissa, but we all had to have dinner together simply because Jane was here. They said it was strange they had never met Jane, but I liked to keep my home life separate from work.”

  I was furious with Ted, but there was no time to worry about such things, what with poor Marcus lying on the floor. Melissa had thrown herself back over him and was sobbing. The chef, Brendan Bowles, was trying to comfort her, but she was pushing him away with her left hand.

  Candace and Rick Weatherspoon were standing next to the waiter, all of them visibly shocked. “Are you sure he’s gone?” Candace asked. “Maybe someone should try CPR.”

  Her words were met with a tirade from Melissa. “He’s dead! He’s dead, I tell you!” She burst into a fresh bout of wailing.

  My heart went out to her. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I didn’t know how long everyone in the restaurant stood there, their mouths open. I wished I could do something to help, but I had no idea what I could do. Mercifully the paramedics arrived quite quickly. They told everyone to back off as they swiftly attended to Marcus.

  “Was your husband on any medication?” the male paramedic asked Melissa.

  She nodded and reeled off a list of medications.

  The paramedics asked Melissa more questions, but I couldn’t hear what they said. I had slumped back into my chair, as had Cherri. “It’s a terrible thing,” she said. “A terrible thing. He was alive only a few minutes ago. I can’t believe it.”

  She was shaking, so I patted her on her back. The paramedics presently told everyone not to leave because the police were on their way.

  I gasped.

  “What is it?” Terry asked me.

  “Oh, nothing,” I said, but I knew that the police wouldn’t be called unless the paramedics suspected suspicious circumstances. Cherri reached fo
r her glass, but I put my hand on her arm. “Don’t drink that,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Just in case there was something in it that, err, made Marcus sick,” I told her.

  Cherri did not appear to make the connection and simply nodded, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Had Marcus been poisoned? I couldn’t believe that this was the second person to have been poisoned in a short space of time, and what’s more, right in front of me.

  What were the odds? Maybe I shouldn’t have moved to Lancaster after all. But then again, I was living with two wonderful roommates and I also had the support of my sister who lived on a nearby farm. If I had stayed in New York, I would have been all alone.

  I was still trying to remain calm when two uniformed officers hurried into the room. “No one is to leave until the detectives arrive,” one said. “Who was at the table with Mr. Matheson when the incident occurred?”

  We all indicated that we were.

  “You all need to give your witness statements before you can leave,” he said.

  “The chef was here too and so was the waiter,” Ted told them.

  “Names?” the officer barked.

  “The chef’s name is Brendan Bowles, but I don’t know the waiter’s name,” Ted told him.

  “Everyone, move away from the victim!” the male officer said in a commanding tone.

  Melissa stood up abruptly. “Victim?” she wailed. The female police officer put her arm around Melissa and somehow managed to maneuvre her away from her husband’s body.

  “I can’t believe it!” Ted muttered to himself.

  I noticed he hadn’t asked Cherri if she was all right and I thought that rather uncaring of him. She was still shaking. I also noticed no one else was touching their champagne, but I took a large gulp of my iced water.