Spotlight: Icing on the Murder by V. M. Burns
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From Agatha and Edgar Award nominated author Valerie Burns, influencer-turned-bakery-owner Maddy Montgomery has sold plenty of wedding cakes before, but before she turns one out for her and her fiancé’s wedding, she’ll have to solve a little case of murder first…
Aunt Octavia would be so proud! Maddy has turned Baby Cakes Bakery—named for her 250-pound English Mastiff, Baby—into a runaway success, and she’s marrying the love of her life, veterinarian Michael Portman. #DreamWedding! Plus the timing couldn’t be better: the country’s biggest bridal expo has come to New Bison, Michigan, and Maddy has secured a spot for Baby Cakes to showcase their cakes. She’s also entered a contest for an all-expenses-paid wedding extravaganza offered by world-renowned wedding planner Serafina.
Unfortunately, supremely nasty Serafina truly takes the cake—she makes the worst bridezilla seem like a shy flower girl. But there’s one thing the wedding planner didn’t plan on—being impaled by one of the skewers Baby Cakes uses on their tiered wedding cakes.
While Maid of Honor Sheriff April Johnson rounds up suspects at the expo, Maddy and her aunt’s friends, the Baker Street Irregulars, and even Baby join forces to unveil a killer hiding in plain sight . . . before wedding bells start to chime.
Excerpt
“Ladies and gentlemen, all the way from New Bison, Michigan, it’s time for the main event. Army versus Navy in the battle of the century.” Tyler Lawrence paused dramatically before continuing. “Now, let’s get ready to rum-bullll!” He drew the last syllable out for a long time in his best impersonation of Michael Buffer, the wrestling and boxer announcer.
I wasn’t a fan of either sport. Having grown up on a naval base surrounded by sailors, even a fashionista like me recognized the phrase. I was surprised by Tyler’s performance. He was normally a quiet man of few words, but ever since he took on the added responsibility of acting mayor in addition to his knitwear shop, he’s been much more outgoing.
With his fist to his mouth as if he were holding a microphone, Tyler Lawrence moved around the large dining room table and stood in front of Michael. “In this corner, at six feet tall and weighing in at . . . ?”
“Two hundred five pounds.” Michael stretched his neck to the side in the way I’d seen professional athletes do in preparing to compete. His neck cracked, and he grinned across the table at me.
“We have Army veteran and renowned local veterinarian, Dr. Michael ‘The Man’ Portman.” Tyler cheered and smacked Michael on the back.
My head baker and friend, Leroy Danielson, stood behind Michael and massaged his shoulders like a trainer preparing a boxer to enter the ring.
Tyler went back around the table. “In this corner, at five-feet- four-inches tall and weighing in at . . . ?” He stuck his fist in front of my face.
“None of your business,” I said.
“Representing the Navy in this battle, we have the daughter of Navy Admiral Jefferson Augustus Montgomery. Fashionista, social media influencer, entrepreneur, and owner of Baby Cakes Bakery, Madison ‘The Squid’ Montgomery.”
Tyler cheered.
“Don’t call me Squid.”
April Johnson was the sheriff, my tenant, and, most importantly, my friend. She chuckled and reached over and fluffed my hair. At nearly six feet tall, with gray eyes and dark wavy hair, she was stunning. April often downplayed her beauty by pulling her hair back into a bun and wearing very little makeup. On the rare occasions when she allowed herself to be a normal human instead of a sheriff, and wore makeup and flattering clothes instead of a uniform, she was a knockout. Today was Sunday. April was off duty and looked like a model.
“This is a lot of foolishness,” Hannah Portman said. She sat at the head of the dining room table and sipped her coffee.
Hannah was Michael’s grandmother and one of the Baby Cakes bakers. She had been best friends with my Great-Aunt Octavia, who started Baby Cakes and from whom I’d inherited it.
“April, don’t encourage this nonsense,” Hannah Portman said. “If we’re done with our Sunday meeting, then we can go and let Maddy and Michael work out the details of their budget without an audience.”
“But we were just getting to the good part,” Tyler said.
Hannah Portman was an older Black woman who had mastered “the look.” She fixed her gaze onto him, and he immediately stopped. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tyler dropped his hand with the invisible microphone, rose, and started to clear the table.
Leroy Danielson snickered. Big mistake.
“And you can take Baby outside to do his business.” Hannah put one hand on her hip. Her look dared him to argue.
Thankfully, both Tyler and Leroy knew where to draw the line.
Leroy patted his leg. “Come on, Baby.”
Baby had been trained by Great-Aunt Octavia. He took a moment to stretch but then trotted next to Leroy, lining his right shoulder up with Leroy’s leg and sitting patiently while staring up at Leroy for his next command.
Leroy smiled down at Baby. “Baby, heel.”
Baby kept his shoulder lined up with Leroy’s leg and adjusted his gait to match. The two walked out of the dining room, and I heard the door open and knew they were outside.
“Humph,” Hannah said. “Now, you two have work to do, and you don’t need an audience to do it.” Her gaze moved from Michael to me. Then, she picked up a pitcher of orange juice and a plate and left.
April rose and picked up a casserole dish and the remaining plates. “I’m going before she comes back.”
When April had run for the sheriff of New Bison, Michigan, she wasn’t a trained policeman. In fact, she actually entered the race more from a need to prove that she could. The desire came after she’d entered the race. Her experience in beauty pageants and the support of Great-Aunt Octavia propelled her to victory. When she won, she went through training and learned the job. It turned out well. April found her calling and turned out to be a great sheriff, even though she lacked confidence. So, each Sunday, Great-Aunt Octavia had invited April and her other close friends over for brunch, and they discussed any hard cases. The New Bison version of Sherlock Holmes’s Baker Street Irregulars was born. Now, even though Great-Aunt Octavia was gone, the group still met whenever there were difficult problems to be solved.
Today’s problem wasn’t a crime, but figuring out the budget for Michael and my wedding might lead to bloodshed.
“Okay, Squid,” Michael said. “What’s the big problem?”
“What are you talking about? And don’t call me Squid.”
The various branches of the military had a number of names for one another. Most were benign. Michael and I often tossed them around as we bickered. Squid was his favorite term of endearment, and I didn’t mind it any more than he minded when I called him a grunt or dumb Joe. However, while engaged in tactical negotiations, I wasn’t ready to concede anything, yet.
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About the Author
Valerie (V. M.) Burns is a mystery writer whose novels and short stories have been finalists for the Agatha, Anthony, Edgar, and Next Generation Indie Book Awards. She is the author of the Mystery Bookshop, Dog Club, RJ Franklin, and Baker Street Mystery series, as well as the Bailey the Bloodhound Mysteries under the name Kallie E. Benjamin. Valerie is a member of Sisters in Crime, Crime Writers of Color, Mystery Writers of America, and the Crime Writers' Association. She is also an adjunct professor in the Writing Popular Fiction Program at Seton Hill University in Greensburg, PA. Born and raised in northwestern Indiana, Valerie now lives in the southeastern United States with her two poodles.
