Death by the Dozen Read Free Page B

Mel’s ear.
    She cracked an eyelid and then closed it. It was still dark. She must have been dreaming.
    “It’s four twenty-five,” the voice said. “Angie is going to bang in here and drag you out by the hair.”
    “I don’t care,” Mel mumbled and burrowed deeper into her pillow.
    “Yesterday she dumped ice water on you,” the voice reminded her. “And the day before that she pressed the test button on your smoke detector to blast you awake.”
    Now Mel’s eyes opened. She turned her head and saw Joe smiling at her from the neighboring pillow. As always when she found him watching her with his warm brown eyes, she was struck by how much he seemed to like her, and her breath caught in her chest.
    She’d had a crush on Joe DeLaura from the first day she set eyes on him when she was a sturdy twelve-year-old and he was a gangly sixteen-year-old with a killer grin who looked out for his little sister, Angie, and by extension his little sister’s best friend, which was Mel. They’d gone separate ways in their twenties, but then, six months ago, he’d walked into Fairy Tale Cupcakes and noticed that Mel was all grown up. They’d been dating ever since.
    She felt too much when she looked at him, so she turned her gaze to the ceiling and teased, “You just don’t want to get caught in the back splash again.”
    “Well, it was kind of harsh,” he said. “Even for Angie. No telling what she’ll come up with today.”
    Mel groaned. “I’d better head her off.”
    “Call me later,” Joe said.
    “I will.” Mel kissed him and rolled out of the bed. She ducked into the bathroom, threw on some clothes, and slipped on her sneakers. Joe was snoring softly as she locked the door behind her.
    She turned to head down the stairs and found Angie halfway up, holding two pot lids, which she had obviously intended to use as cymbals.
    “I’m going to take back the key to my apartment,” Mel said. “You’re abusing the privilege.”
    Angie shrugged. “You’re up, aren’t you?”
    Mel followed her down the stairs and into the back door of the bakery, which led into the kitchen. The large steel worktable in the center held a brown paper bag, presumably full of mystery ingredients. Tate was hovering by the coffee machine in the corner as if willing it to brew faster.
    “Morning,” Mel mumbled.
    “Hunh,” he grunted. He handed her a mug before filling his own.
    “So, what’s the ingredient today?” Mel asked. She took a sip of the refreshingly strong brew and tried to defog her brain. They’d been at this competition prep for two weeks, and she wondered if Tate had run out of mystery ingredients yet.
    “Good question.” Angie fished in the bag with a frown. She pulled out a bunch of what looked like white carrots by their leafy green stems and frowned. “What are these?”
    “Parsnips,” Mel and Tate said together.
    “Seriously?” Angie asked. “What are we supposed to do with these?”
    “Sorry, I’m beginning to scrape the bottom of the barrel on unusual ingredients,” Tate said. “I figured this would throw Mel a nice curve. Call me when you’re ready for a taste test. You have one hour—starting now.”
    “Where are you going?” Angie asked.
    Tate usually stayed to watch them work, but today he looked more exhausted than usual. Mel figured the early mornings must be catching up to him. He sipped his coffee and headed for the office. “I’m going to stay out of the way and read the paper.”
    He shut the office door behind him, and they heard Mel’s desk chair creak as he tilted it backwards.
    “Five bucks says we hear him snoring within ten minutes,” Angie said.
    “Sucker bet,” Mel said with a shake of her head. “You’re not earning a fiver off of me that easily.”
    “Fine. Clock’s ticking,” Angie said. She held out the parsnips to Mel. “What’s your plan?”
    Mel studied the parsnips. “Peel and shred these into three cups then steam them.”
    “Roger that,” Angie