Murder Takes the Cake Text Read Free Page B

who was currently serving a seven-year term in prison for assault with a deadly weapon after shooting at me. Fortunately, he’d missed; and, in my opinion, he was sentenced to far too little time simply because his aim was off. He’d called it a “mistake.” Whether he meant shooting at me or missing, I have no idea. Mom called the whole ordeal a mistake, too. Neither of them could understand why I filed for divorce.
    “He said he was sorry,” Mom had scolded me over the phone. “You made the man angry, Daphne. You know how you can be. A person can only take so much.”
    I’d hung up on her. A person could only take so much. That was nearly five years ago.
    I heard a plaintive meow and looked up to see the fluffy, gray-and-white, one-eyed stray sitting a short distance away.
    “Me, too, baby,” I told the cat softly as I set out some food for it. “Me, too.”
     

CHAPTER TWO
     
    I awoke the next morning with my head throbbing. Still, headache or not, it was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and I had a lot to do. I wanted to make a cake that Mom would “ooh” and “ah” over; but since that was an impossibility, I had to settle for pleasing myself and Violet’s family. Mom thought I was “silly” for leaving a “perfectly good job in order to stay home and make cakes.”
    I pressed my fingertips to my temples and tried not to think about Mom. Instead, I focused on my plans for the day. First stop, ibuprofen and coffee.
    I’d planned for the day to be fairly peaceful: shopping, baking, decorating. Little did I know the specter of Yodel Watson would follow me the entire day.
    My first errand was going to Dobbs’ Pet Store. Being the only pet store in town, Dobbs had everything from hamsters to poisonous snakes and supplies to care for whatever critter struck your fancy.
    Speaking of being stricken, when I walked through the door of the pet shop, I came face to face with a rattlesnake. Fortunately, Kellen Dobbs was holding the snake, but I wasn’t sure I entirely trusted his grip.
    “Be right with you,” Mr. Dobbs said. He squeezed the snake’s head, and a stream of golden venom flowed into a small glass jar on the counter. “We’re not supposed to be open yet. I must’ve forgotten to lock the door back.”
    I stood dumbly, transfixed by the gray-haired, bearded man milking the snake. I’d never seen anything like it.
    A woman came from the back of the store. She appeared to be quite a bit younger than Mr. Dobbs. She had bright red hair and wore too much makeup. I prayed she wouldn’t spook the snake . . . or Mr. Dobbs.
    “He does that a lot,” the woman said. “Forgets to lock the door, I mean.”
    “I didn’t realize the store wasn’t open,” I said. “I can come back—”
    “Nonsense,” Mr. Dobbs said, placing the snake into an aquarium. “Since you’re here, you might as well get what you came after.”
    “I’m looking for some sort of vitamin-enriched cat food,” I said. “I moved into town about a month ago and recently learned I inherited a stray cat. I’ve been giving her—”
    “Hey,” the red-haired woman interrupted, “ain’t you the one who found Yodel Watson yesterday?”
    “Yes. How’d you know?”
    “Joanne Hayden told me. Her husband’s on the police force.”
    I rolled my eyes.
    “They think Mrs. Watson might’ve been murdered .”
    “Candy,” Mr. Dobbs said, “go grab one of those purple bags of cat food in aisle four.” He looked at me. “How much do you think you’ll need?”
    “A five-pound bag should be enough for now.”
    “Five-pound bag, Candy!” he called. “What’d they do with the parrot?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Mrs. Watson’s parrot,” he said. “What’d they do with it?”
    “Oh. They sent it to animal control. They’d hoped to turn it over to a family member, but her daughter lives out of town. I guess she can pick Banjo up from animal control when she gets here.”
    “Did you know Mrs. Watson well?”
    “Hardly at