Flour Day will Come

  Flour Day will Come

  Twin Berry Bakery - 8

  Wendy Meadows

  Copyright © 2022 by Wendy Meadows

  All rights reserved.

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  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.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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  Majestic Owl Publishing LLC

  P.O. Box 997

  Newport, NH 03773

  Created with Vellum

  Author’s Note

  Hi reader! Thanks for grabbing my book. I hope you enjoy the twins, Rita and Rhonda, on their sleuthing adventures. :)

  If you’re ready to grab more books in the series, you can click below to view them all. :)

  Twin Berry Bakery Cozy Mystery Series

  Oh, be sure to join my newsletter to stay up-to-date with new releases and other tidbits.

  wendymeadows.com/cozy

  Happy reading,

  Wendy Meadows

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  More from Wendy

  About Wendy Meadows

  Chapter One

  Sometimes murder is very serious business—and sometimes murder is a little bit… funny. Funny, you ask? In the case that became known as the Murderous Cupcake Case, Rita and Rhonda Knight had to (eventually) both agree that the murder that took place was a bit… funny. Of course, the lovely twin sisters, who were currently both preparing to finally get married, didn’t agree that the person who died from eating a poisonous cupcake was so funny, especially since the cupcake came from their bakery. Nope. During the Murderous Cupcake Case, the twin sisters were very focused on capturing a killer in order to prove their own innocence. And, well… the killer they finally caught wasn’t quite what they expected, wasn’t what anyone in the small town of Clovedale Falls expected. And that is where this story begins.

  “It’s hotter than butt,” Rhonda complained, wiping sweat off her forehead as Rita closed the door attached to a very hot oven. “Where is Edna when you need her.”

  “Still on vacation,” Rita sighed, wiping at her own forehead, and tossing Rhonda a disapproving eye. “Sis, I don’t think the phrase ‘hotter than butt’ is very ladylike. Can you strive to be more… appropriate?”

  Rhonda pointed down at her brown apron with a farting cupcake imprinted on it. “Does this apron look like I’m in the mood to be appropriate?” She blew her sweaty bangs away from her eyes. “Underneath this apron I’m wearing a T-shirt with a picture of a very grumpy Charlie Brown stomping all over a kite. That should tell you how I’m feeling today.”

  Rita winced. Rhonda wasn’t in the best of moods. Rita had no idea why and wasn’t sure she wanted to discover the reason her sister was so grumpy. “Are you upset because Zach is still in Alabama?” she dared to ask and then waited for a nuclear bomb to go off.

  Rhonda’s beautiful face turned hotter than the boiling sun that was hovering in the clear blue sky outside. “Zach… my dear beloved-to-be… is a jerk—J.E.R.K.!” she exploded. She marched over to a brown baking table, grabbed a bag of baking flour, and poured the flour into a large green baking bowl. Unfortunately, Rhonda dumped the flour out too fast and a terrible mess followed. “Oh, good grief!” she cried as she slapped flour out of her hair and off her face.

  Rita winced again. “I’ll get the broom and dustpan.”

  Rhonda wiped flour away from her eyes and spotted her very lovely twin sister, who was wearing a very lovely pink dress, walk across an otherwise clean and lovely kitchen to sweep up her ugly mess. “Oh, this is impossible!” Rhonda whined, coughing flour out of her mouth. “Rita, look at you!”

  Rita paused next to the broom closet and looked down at the pink dress she was wearing. “Yes?” she asked.

  “You look so beautiful today. Your hair is resting in a cute little bun and your pink tennis shoes are adorable,” Rhonda whined. “And look at me. My tennis shoes don’t even match. I’m wearing an old T-shirt and a pair of green jogging pants—and my hair is a mess.”

  Rita struggled to find words that would make her deflated sister feel better. “Uh… at least you put on deodorant and brushed your teeth.”

  “I forgot to put on deodorant!” Rhonda yelled and then threw her body over the baking table, covered her head, and cried. “My underarms don’t smell like Fresh Spring Rain….”

  “Oh, honey.” Rita hurried over to Rhonda and gently held a hand out. “I… you’re… everything will be better.”

  “Zach doesn’t love me,” Rhonda bawled. “He won’t leave Alabama… he’s seeing another woman.”

  “Oh, stop being so silly, honey,” Rita begged and rolled her eyes without Rhonda seeing. “Zach is being held up for legal reasons. After all, he is inheriting a great deal of money and his aunt was behind on her taxes. Once Zach gets settled with the IRS, he’ll come back to Clovedale Falls.”

  “Zach can smell my farts,” Rhonda cried. “How is that for being ladylike, Mr. Zach!”

  Rita rolled her eyes again. Rhonda could be so dramatic. “Honey, I—” Rita stopped when the bell hanging on the front door announced a visitor. “I… better go see who just walked in.”

  Rhonda waved her hand at Rita. “Go. Leave me alone to suffer in misery. Maybe I’ll eat a million cupcakes and die!”

  Rita bit back a grin, patted her sister on the back, and hurried into the front room. “Oh, Billy… hello.”

  “Howdy,” Billy said in a cheerful voice, beaming. “Getting near lunchtime and thought I’d take you and Rhonda to the diner. Mae is serving fried green tomatoes today and we best hurry before she runs out.”

  Rita smiled at her husband-to-be. Sure, Billy was wearing his usual worn baseball cap and farm overalls, but so what? So what if the man wasn’t a fancy lawyer dressed in an expensive suit? So what if Billy was a simple farmer? Rita loved the man and that’s all that counted. “I’m not so sure Rhonda will be in the mood for fried green tomatoes,” she informed Billy and carefully pushed open the door leading into the kitchen. Loud, miserable sobs flowed through the door. “See?”

  Billy made an ouch face. “Is that Rhonda making those sounds?” he asked without stepping further. Rita nodded. “Did something die back in that there kitchen?” Rita shook her head no. “Did she eat a dead porcupine?”

  “Zach is still in Alabama,” Rita explained, closing the door.

  “Is that the cause for all that wailing?” Billy exclaimed. “Goodness me, you’d think the woman done cut off her arms and legs or something.” Billy approached the front counter and shook his head. “I just got off the phone with Zach,” he told Rita. “Turns out all the IRS wanted was a couple of grand… mere pennies to what that boy has inherited.”

  “That’s all?” Rita asked. “From the worry in Zach’s voice I was expecting—”

  “The IRS to take millions… yeah,” Billy said and winced as Rhonda let out a loud, painful moan. “You best go tell that woman Zach will be leaving Alabama in the next hour. It was supposed to be a surprise but… goodness, I’m not so sure that woman can wait.”

  A relieved smile washed across Rita’s beautiful face. “Rhonda will be very glad to hear that,” she told Billy. She leaned across the counter and gave the man a sweet kiss. “My hero.”

  Billy blushed from head to toe. “Aw, ain’t nothing. Bringing a bit of good news is mighty simple. Gosh, it ain’t like I saved anyone.” Billy turned redder than a cayenne pepper, which made Rita giggle. “Oh… you know how embarrassed I get when you kiss me in public… gosh….” Billy pulled out a green handkerchief and wiped at his forehead. “I reckon your kisses are worth turning red over.”

  While Billy struggled to turn back to a normal color, Rhonda cleaned up the spilled flour. She retrieved a broom from the broom closet and set out to turn the kitchen back to its normal pretty self. “Stupid Zach… I’ll kill him if he’s seeing another woman,” she fussed as the cupcakes in the oven continued to bake, making the kitchen feel… well… in Rhonda’s grumpy view, hotter than butt. “I’ll kill him,” she promised, sweeping flour into a metal dustpan.

  “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  “Huh?” Rhonda popped her head up and saw Rita standing in the kitchen doorway. “Oh… I was—”

  “Fussing.” Rita smiled, walked over to her sister, and patted the woman’s shoulder. “Relax, honey, Billy just told me Zach is leaving Alabama in the next hour and driving straight home to Clovedale Falls. As it turns out, the IRS only required a couple thousand dollars in back taxes.”

  Rhonda felt her heart jump with excitement but then quickly decided to play it cool. “Oh, is that all?” she asked, pretending to sound bored. “Well, Zach doesn’t have to rush home on my account.”

  Rita rolled her eyes. “Sure he doesn’t,” she said and checked on the cupcakes. “After this batch,
Billy is going to take us to the diner for lunch, okay?”

  Rhonda walked over to a gray trash can and emptied the dustpan. “I suppose that will suffice,” she told Rita, still struggling to play it cool even though her eyes were stained with tears. “I would like to powder my nose first.”

  “I have some deodorant in my purse,” Rita teased. Rhonda shot her a sour eye. “Cupcakes are almost done,” Rita continued. “Why don’t you go freshen up and keep Billy company? I’ll tend to the cupcakes and put them out to cool.”

  Rhonda studied the baking table. “Let me clean up the flour first.”

  “I’ll clean up the mess,” Rita promised. She took the broom and dustpan away from Rhonda and shooed her sister out of the hot kitchen. “You go get cleaned up.” Rhonda sighed and did as Rita ordered. “And give me some peace of mind,” Rita whispered with a giggle and hurried to clean the kitchen as the cupcakes baked. Twenty minutes later the kitchen was pretty again. A batch of freshly baked cupcakes was sitting on the baking table cooling. “There.” Rita smiled, wiped at her forehead, and walked back into the front room where she caught Billy eating a peanut butter cupcake. “Hey, you have to pay for that!” she yelled.

  Billy nearly wet his pants… uh… overalls. “Oh… I was… I was… just a little something to hold me over…,” he said, nearly dropping his half-eaten cupcake.

  Rita giggled. “I’m teasing, Billy,” she said and grabbed her purse. “Where is Rhonda?”

  “Oh, she decided to go home and put on a dress. She’ll meet us at the diner,” Billy explained. He studied the delicious cupcake he was holding and decided to polish it off. “My, you ladies sure do make the best cupcakes this mouth has ever tasted.”

  Rita watched Billy gobble down the cupcake and wipe at his mouth. It warmed her heart to see Billy enjoying the fruit of her labors. Rita was learning to enjoy the simple treasures life had to offer. Yes, “Ms. Practical” was learning to allow her heart to smile rather than always remain locked up in a tight room. “You can have a discount… a sweet discount,” she told Billy. She walked over to the silly man, kissed his cheek, and then smiled. “Ready for some fried green tomatoes?”

  “Am I?” Billy exclaimed, grabbing Rita’s hand and running her to the front door. “You lock up and I’ll bring the truck around.” Billy hurried outside into the blistering day like a kid racing toward a candy store.

  “Silly man,” Rita giggled. She hurried to lock the front door, not knowing that hidden deep within the bowels of the hot kitchen a killer was lurking. As soon as Rita was safely outside the killer sneaked out into the kitchen and went to work… poisoning the freshly baked cupcakes sitting on the baking table cooling off.

  Rita glanced around the blistering day, spotted a few brave locals out and about, wandering around the cozy downtown area, and waited for Billy to pull his truck around. “Sure is a hot day,” she said, climbing up into the passenger’s side before Billy could get out, run around the truck, and open her door. Rita knew Billy was a true gentleman, but it was just too hot to wait for manners.

  Billy thought otherwise. “Now, I would have opened your door,” he complained.

  “Too hot,” Rita explained and began rolling up the passenger window. “Billy, put on the air before I melt,” she begged.

  “Hot?” Billy asked. “Why, it ain’t even warm enough to melt ice. City folk… goodness.” Billy rolled up the driver-side window and popped on the AC. “Now, the summer when I was fourteen years old, now that was a hot one,” he said as he began driving. “Yep, I nearly melted into a pool of nothing that summer. Went two solid months with no rain. Temperatures ran over a hundred during the day and barely got down into the lower seventies at night. Talking about hot… yes sir, my daddy said it got so hot the cows didn’t have strength enough to slap flies away with their tails.” Billy eased down the main street, cruising past cozy stores that were baking in the heat. “Why, it ain’t even hot enough outside to melt—”

  “Ice… yes, Billy, you told me,” Rita said, sighing and sticking her face in front of a vent, waiting for the air flowing out to turn cold. “However, my husband-to-be, this woman isn’t fond of the heat. Once the temperature rises above seventy-two degrees, I prefer that someone turn on an air conditioner.”

  “Aw, my daddy never had one of them air conditioners,” Billy complained. “When us kids were growing up, we depended on God’s wind to cool us down. Yep, all we had to do was take a dip in the river and catch a breeze. Nothing beats it.”

  “Until you dry off,” Rita pointed out.

  Billy grinned. He enjoyed teasing Rita. His bride-to-be was a city woman who depended on man-made inventions to stay cool. Teasing city folk gave Billy a sense of joy that was… well, a little twisted. City people were amusing when they fussed and complained, like little tiny dogs yipping behind a fence at a giant bear. Of course, Billy would never dare tell Rita that he was teasing her. No sir. Not if he wanted to keep all of his teeth. “Aw, now…,” he began to continue but stopped when he saw Brad Bluestone, the local chief of police, pull up behind his truck. “Well, there’s Brad,” he announced.

  Rita looked into the rearview mirror and saw Brad stick his arm out of the driver’s window and motion to the side of the road. “Oh, what now?” she sighed. “Billy, Brad wants you to pull over.”

  “Looks that way.” Billy eased his truck off the road and parked in front of a candle-making shop that was currently closed.

  Brad quickly parked behind Billy’s truck, jumped out into the heat, tossed on his police hat, and jogged up to the passenger-side door instead of the driver-side door. He waited for Rita to roll down the window before saying, “Glad I caught you.”

  Rita read Brad’s urgent face and winced. “Billy and I were just on our way to the diner for lunch.”

  “You better hurry,” Brad said, “because we have an escaped clown on the loose.”

  “A what?” Billy asked.

  “Phil Whinnel,” Brad explained. “Escaped from a mental home for the criminally insane last night.”

  “Phil Whinnel… no way!” Billy exclaimed and then slapped the steering wheel and began laughing. “Old Phil Whinnel… oh boy….”

  “Billy, this isn’t a laughing matter,” Brad insisted.

  Billy hit the steering wheel again. “Old Phil Whinnel….” He continued to guffaw, leaving Rita and Brad looking at each other in confusion.

  “Brad wasn’t happy with you,” Rita told Billy in a voice that clearly wasn’t too happy as well. “Brad said Phil Whinnel is a killer.”

  Billy pulled his truck into the Clovedale Falls Diner parking lot—a gravel lot filled with mostly farm trucks—and parked beside a run-down green Chevy. “Oh, Old Phil was crazy from the day he was born, but he ain’t a killer—not the way folks make him out to be, at least,” he explained as his eyes studied the lunch crowd through the diner’s plate-glass window. “We best get inside and get a table if we want some o’ those tomatoes—”

  Rita grabbed Billy’s arm. “Billy, please… forget the fried green tomatoes. We have a killer on the loose,” she begged. “Now, tell me, who is Phil Whinnel?”

  Billy stared up at the red and white diner that was decorated like a giant peppermint and nearly began drooling all over himself. “But the tomatoes won’t last another hour,” he pleaded. “Can’t we talk inside?”

  Rita studied the diner for a few seconds. “Brad is going to announce that Phil Whinnel may be heading toward Clovedale Falls tonight at the meeting. Until then he asked us to keep the matter private.”

  “But the fried green tomatoes,” Billy whined. “Rita, only Mae can cook… I mean, the woman has a talent of frying up her tomatoes just the right way. And boy, do those fried green tomatoes melt in your mouth!” Billy reached out his hand toward the diner. “Oh, please don’t say goodbye before you get in my belly!”