Read Sprinkle with Murder for Free Online

together, but neither one believed it.
“Stan, we’ve got to go,” Rayburn annouced.
Uncle Stan shoved the last of his cupcake in his mouth and waved as he hustled out the door.
“She was that awful?” Angie asked.
Mel was about to recount the conversation when the bells on the front door jangled and two young women walked in. One was a willowy, dark-haired, dark-eyed girl with skin so pale it almost glowed. The other was tan, blonde, and decked out in sparkles from head to toe.
“We’re here to pick up an order of cupcakes,” the blonde one said. She wiggled as she walked, unfortunately reminding Mel of Christie’s dog Puddles. The other one, the scary-looking one, seemed to glide across the room.
“I just love this place, don’t you, Alma?” the giggly one asked her companion. “It’s just so cuuuuuute.”
“That’s what we were going for,” Angie said dryly. “Cuuuuuute.”
The one called Alma just glared. She radiated a feeling of doom, and Mel and Angie exchanged a look. If anyone was in need of a cupcake, it was this girl.
“What are your names?” Angie asked.
“Why do you need our names?” the one called Alma asked, looking irritated.
“Your order would be under your name,” Angie said.
“Oh, they’re not for us, silly,” the blonde girl said.
“As if,” Alma added. Her tone made it clear that there’d be snowball fights in hell before there was a box of cupcakes with her name on it.
“What name would the order be under then?” Angie asked. Mel could tell she was about out of patience, and she joined Angie behind the counter to give her backup.
“Christie Stevens,” the blonde said proudly. “Only the most brilliant designer ever.”
“She sent you, then?” Mel asked.
“Obviously.” Alma said each syllable slowly, as if she thought the word was too big for Mel to comprehend.
Mel saw Angie’s fingers flex and she feared that she might smack the girl with a spatula, so she quickly intervened. “Angie, they’re in a box in the walk-in. Would you get them for me, please?”
“Gladly.” Angie glared at the dark-haired girl and stomped into the back room.
Mel studied the gothic-looking young woman. She was dressed head to toe in black, wore too much makeup, and somehow managed to suck all of the joy out of the air around her, as if she were a mini black hole.
The blonde one, however, was as bright as a buttercup and obviously worshipped her boss. Mel had noticed that not only did the blonde dress like her, but she also had some of Christie’s mannerisms down. She covered her mouth when she giggled, and the giggle sounded just like Christie’s. Eep!
“So, you’re Christie’s assistants?” she asked.
Alma glared at her from behind a thick curtain of black bangs. “Hardly. We’re designers.”
“Really?” Mel asked. “That must be fascinating.”
“Oh, it is,” the blonde said on a breath. “And working for Christie is such an honor. Why, she’s just totally all that, you know?”
“Shut up, Phoebe,” Alma snapped.
“Hmm,” Mel grunted noncommittally.
Alma glanced around the room as if the cheerful pink walls were making her physically ill. She glided over to a corner booth and sank down as if just being in the shop was making her weak.
“I’ll need you to sign for the cupcakes,” Mel said to Phoebe.
“Sure,” she said, with a shrug she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder.
Mel quickly rang up a receipt and handed it and a pen to the girl. She scrawled her name just as Angie returned with a pink box with gray and black retro starburst symbols on it.
She offered the box to Alma, who looked as if she’d rather die than be seen carrying such a thing.
“Don’t you have a bag you could put that in?” she asked.
Angie glowered at her and found a plain white bag under the counter. She put the box in the bag and handed it to Alma.
“Have a lovely evening,” Angie said with so much syrupy cheerfulness even Mary Poppins would have gagged. Mel had to turn away to keep from laughing.
The bells jangled as the door shut behind the