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  A Tiny Dash of Death: A Brightwater Bay Cozy Mystery (book 2)

  By Angela C Blackmoore, Carolyn L. Dean, and Beth Byers

  A Tiny Dash of Death: A Brightwater Bay Cozy Mystery (book 2) is copyright 2018 by Freeform Publishing. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  Dedication

  For Gini Pierson, with love.

  I would also like to thank Sally Kopp, Gini Pierson, Emily Foster, Ellen Hargraves, Dawn Kahl, Pat Spencer, and Cynthia Herr. I deeply appreciate your help in editing, proofreading, and helping me to become a better writer

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Author’s Notes

  Chapter 1

  “Oh, thank heaven for coffee.”

  Claire wrapped her fingers around the fat ceramic mug and closed her eyes as she breathed in the rich scent of her favorite blend. On a morning like this, every little bit of motivation she could get was welcome, and she savored her first long sip of her mocha like some people would treasure the hug of an old friend.

  When she opened her eyes, the early winter sunshine showed the vast Pacific Ocean stretched out before her, shrouded by the gently rolling fog that had swept inland amidst the tall fir trees and quaint old buildings of Brightwater Bay. If the weather had been warmer she would’ve been happy to be outside on the small porch of the little blue cabin she was renting from Daisy, but the biting cold of late January convinced her to look at the view through her front window. She felt fortunate that her little cottage, as old as it was, was snug and warm inside, even though she could see ice crystals clustered on the outer glass of the storm window.

  There was something special about Brightwater Bay, and Darryl Portman, her police officer friend, had not been wrong about the view. He’d been the first person she’d met in town, or rather out of town, when his police cruiser had pulled up behind her and had checked to be sure she wasn’t going to jump over the high guardrail when her car had broken down. Whether she was looking at the place from the road above, or remembering her first experience driving down into town, she knew there was something calming and magical about this little place. It was as if some old-fashioned village that had been bypassed by modern times. Clusters of war-era houses lined quiet, clean streets, and the antique streetlights still twinkled in the slowly brightening dawn. After another slow sip, Claire turned away and set her coffee down to finish getting ready for the day.

  When Mrs. Applegate had offered her a job at the Brightwater Resort’s fabulous bakery, she’d expected to work early in the morning, but her bubbly boss had tried to break her into the new routine slowly, letting her start her day an hour after Mrs. Applegate would already be mixing and measuring in the bakery kitchen. Fortunately, Claire had been an early riser for most of her life, so getting up hadn’t been as much of a chore as it might have been. Her coworkers were positive and fun to be around, and the sumptuous smells of rolls and pastries, along with the satisfaction of creating something that other people enjoyed so much, gave Claire a happiness that she hadn’t had in a very long time. For the first time in her life, she could honestly say she loved her job.

  Her dog, Roscoe, on the other hand, was definitely not a fan of early mornings. As soon as she’d put on her coat and tried to coax her little black and white companion out of his plush dog bed, he’d given a deep sigh of frustration and tried to burrow deeper, his eyes closed in denial. She laughed a bit, sympathetic but determined, and when she finally pulled him out of his warm bed Roscoe licked her hand a couple of times in defeat. He knew better than to pitch a fit about going with Claire, as his breakfast would be served at the bakery, in his special spot. He was normally a cheerful dog, and Claire’s constant companion, but getting pulled out of his warm bed, even with the promise of a meaty breakfast, still didn’t set well with him.

  Claire clipped on a leash and gave Roscoe a last pat as she put him down, then stepped out into the cold of the Pacific Northwest. She was just locking the door on her pretty blue cottage when Daisy Monroe, her landlady, walked out her door, too. Her cottage was at the end of the row of tidy little houses. She owned them all, and had been kind enough to let Claire and Roscoe stay at one of her rentals when Claire’s car had been stranded in Brightwater just before Christmas. After Claire had decided to remain in Brightwater, she’d talked to Daisy about renting the blue cottage long-term and they’d struck a deal.

  “Good morning, Claire,” Daisy said as she opened her car door, her normally thin, plain face brightened with a bright smile. “Off to work at the bakery?” When Claire nodded, Daisy’s smile grew wider. “You know, I wouldn’t hate it if you brought back some of those walnut cinnamon buns again. I keep trying to duplicate their taste for the coffeeshop but I’m nowhere close and the customers just love them.”

  “No problem,” Claire said, trying to ignore Roscoe as he ambitiously marked every rock and post he could reach. How’s your new coffee shop going? I saw your ad in the paper, but I haven’t had time to get over to check it out yet.”

  “It’s going great!” Daisy said brightly. “You should stop by. It’s exactly what I needed to get out of the house. I was getting so tired of just sitting and watching soap operas and knitting, and I am certainly not going to say no to the extra money. You can tell Mrs. Applegate that the bakery equipment I bought from her is working just as she promised.” She gave a rueful smile. “The only problem is with the baker. Everyone loves the coffee and drinks at the new shop, but I’m still trying to figure out how to make the pastries. At this rate, I’m going to be buying everything from the resort bakery for the next six months.”

  “We’re just happy to help,” Claire said, knowing that Mrs. Applegate quietly gave Daisy a substantial discount, hoping to support her new business as Daisy was trying to get it off the ground. She waited for Roscoe to finish his business in the small patch of grass outside of the house. When her little dog was done, he bounded toward their small car and pranced, looking back with his tongue hanging out and his breath misting in front of him. Though he disliked getting up early, he hated being cold even more. “I’ll also try to bring back some more raspberry tarts tonight, though that will depend on if we have any left at the end of the day.”

  “That sounds perfect. I’ll buy whatever you bring,” Daisy said as she climbed into her own vehicle and started it up. Claire waved again before helping Roscoe up into her car and onto the large blue blanket she’d placed in the passenger seat. Roscoe scratched at the fuzzy blue fabric and then turned several times before lying down and resting, panting happily as the car began to move.

  “Ready for another day, Roscoe?” Claire beamed happily at the small dog before pulling out of the parking space next to the cottage. Her commute to work was one of her favorite things about the Brightwater Bay. The drive through the just-awakening town was easy this early in the morning. The road
wound down past some of the older homes before entering Main Street. Old-fashioned street lamps the city had installed twenty years ago reflected off of the mist-slicked road.

  The marine fog that blew in off of the water was still thick enough to make her cautious, so Claire drove carefully, but there were so few other cars on the road at this early hour she usually didn’t have to worry. Even the ferry only had three vehicles parked and waiting for the first run of the day. It wasn’t due for another hour, but there were always a few people who didn’t anticipate the timing correctly, or were so used to larger city traffic that they arrived early.

  She wondered what the occupants thought about Brightwater Bay. Did they appreciate the misty calm, or was it just a stopping place on their way to wherever they were going to the outer islands? Were they on vacation, or honeymoon or visiting family? She’d gotten used to seeing a string of strangers waiting at the ferry landing, taking goods or people between the beautiful San Juan Islands on its many stops. Darryl and Daisy had both told her that summer was the busy tourist season and that many people in town geared up all winter to be ready for selling things to the people passing through, but right now the quiet of a misty winter and fewer people in town suited her just fine.

  The rural road led her out of town and onto the now-familiar lane lined with tall fir trees that led to the resort. Curving around toward the back of the huge lodge, she parked her car in the lot assigned to staff and moved toward the main building with Roscoe in tow. As soon as she turned the ignition off, Roscoe’s head popped up. He’d gotten used to the routine of going to work, and by the time Claire had opened his door and grabbed his leash he was raring to go.

  Her path through the ornate hallways took her into the two-story foyer before leading to the wing that held the bakery. She could smell the bread before she opened the main doors, and it always made her grin with anticipation. There was nothing better than fresh-baked bread with a thick pat of melting butter on top, and her job was to work with it every day.

  Making her way around the large glass case and behind the wide marble counter, she pushed open the swinging door and embraced the full aroma that wafted out. It was a heady mixture of fragrant caramel, cooking apples, and steamy bread dough. Smiling at Mrs. Applegate, she noted the older woman was rolling out a long line of dough that looked like it might end up being rolls of some sort.

  “Hello, honey!” Mrs. Applegate greeted Claire as she walked in, her hands still busily working on the dough. “So good to see you this morning. I hope you had a good night’s sleep and are ready to get to work?”

  “You bet,” Claire said as she ensconced Roscoe in his doggie bed in one of the back room’s corners. He’d learned to stay tucked out of the way, where he wouldn’t get into things or make someone worry about a pet being near the kitchen. Claire walked over to the main sink, washed her hands carefully and dried them on a nearby towel. Her eyebrows pulled together in concern.

  “I’m hoping I can do a better job on that raisin bread today since I botched it last week.”

  Mrs. Applegate grinned and nodded, gesturing to the table next to her. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t forget to put the yeast and sugar on one side of the bowl and the salt on the other. The problem you had last time was that the salt killed the yeast before you could mix it in. It sounds silly, I know, but I don’t make the rules.”

  Wrapping a big apron around herself, Claire tied it in the back and got to work, happily tapping her feet to the classic big band music that Mrs. Applegate loved to listen to. She couldn’t even count the number of little hints and tricks that the older woman had taught her about baking. She’d thought she was a decent cook when she’d started, but it was truly amazing how much she’d learned in just a few short weeks. To her credit, Mrs. Applegate had taken great pains to make her comfortable even as she’d gently corrected her new apprentice, and had been giving Claire more responsibilities she’d started to show more skill.

  “The moment someone thinks they know it all, then they should quit whatever they are doing because they’re full of hooey. We’re always learning. There is no shame in not knowing something,” Mrs. Applegate had said after a particularly trying day. Using the back of a flour-dusted hand to wipe a stray wisp of hair from her forehead, Claire had sighed in relief at her boss’ words. It had been exactly what she needed to hear.

  Sandy, the talkative counter girl, arrived about twenty minutes before they opened their doors at seven, and quickly got to work making sure the front area was ready for whoever might be coming in. At seven on the dot, she opened the front doors with a smile and a flourish, and the first few customers entered the bakery, eager for fresh goodies. While traffic was not brisk, there were enough tourists and people that came up from the town and ferry to keep the well-loved bakery busy. Claire rotated from the back kitchen to helping Sandy at the front counter, and even during the occasional slow times, both Sandy and Mrs. Applegate were pleasant company. which made the time go by quickly.

  Just before noon, Claire was pulling a full tray of flourless chocolate mini tarts out of the big oven in the back room when she could hear a familiar voice at the front counter. She could feel herself pinkening a bit as Mrs. Applegate’s head turned toward her, the frosting spatula in her hand temporarily forgotten.

  “I think you’ve got a friend up front,” she said, her voice casual but her smiling eyes full of mischief. Ignoring the older lady’s humor, Claire set the tarts on the counter and briskly wiped her hands on her flour-streaked apron. Pushing her way through the swinging door to the front, she wasn’t at all surprised when Mrs. Applegate was right behind her.

  Scott Bedford was standing by the cash register, his hands jammed into the deep pockets of his heavy jacket, a smile on his face and his eyes locked on Claire.

  “Mr. Bedford! So good to see you,” Mrs. Applegate said pleasantly. “Day off from work?”

  Scott turned toward her, his face friendly. “Yep. The ferry’s going to have to do without me today. Judd’s on duty.”

  Claire picked up a clean cloth and started to polish the already-spotless counter by the cash register, as Mrs. Applegate continued.

  “You’ve been a common sight around here lately, haven’t you? Are you here to buy something or are you here to kidnap my new assistant, again?”

  Claire watched the blush creep over Scott’s face as he glanced at her, taking off his baseball cap. “A little of both, if you don’t mind? I thought Claire might enjoy a good lunch down at the diner.”

  Mrs. Applegate grinned, a twinkle in her eye. “Are you saying my place isn’t good enough for lunch?”

  “Uh, not on your life,” Scott said emphatically. “It’s just that Lucy is making Dogwood Café’s famous pot roast today, and I don’t think Claire’s had a chance to sample it yet.”

  “All right, Scott, I’ll let you off easy this time, but you still have to actually ask Claire. She might say no.” Mrs. Applegate said, smiling at Claire with amusement. She knew very well that Claire wouldn’t say no.

  Scott seemed to relax, as though he’d been worried she might say Claire was needed at the bakery. His eyes flicked to Claire, who’d given up on wiping down anything as she watched her boss talk to Scott.

  “So, Claire, care to accompany me for lunch? I guarantee the pot roast is worth the trip.”

  Claire smiled back, trying to ignore the grin that Sandy and Mrs. Applegate were sharing. She’d begun to feel self-conscious about his presence, though Scott had never once behaved as anything other than a gentleman. In the last couple of weeks Scott had been showing up more and more, and she could tell he was interested in her. He didn’t seem to mind anyone else knowing about it, either, and Claire had to admit she enjoyed being with him. Whether it was hanging out with mutual friends or laughing over a silly comedy at the little local theater, she enjoyed their time together. It wasn’t even two years since her husband had passed away, and she could still feel the shards of her broken heart rubbing against
the damaged parts of herself, but it was nice to have someone to spend time with. When she’d felt guilty about enjoying herself, about a week before, she’d suddenly remembered something her mother had told her once, years ago.

  No matter how happily married a woman is, it’s always nice to know that some nice young man wishes she wasn’t, she’d casually said one night as she was watching TV, and Claire had burst out laughing, thinking it was an absolutely absurd statement. Now, looking back, she had to admit that it was nice to sit across the table from a good-looking guy with decent table manners, whose eyes lingered occasionally on her face.

  “Pot roast sounds good. Let me go grab my jacket.”

  Claire disappeared into the back to get her coat, reaching over and scratching Roscoe’s ear before she left. She knew Sandy loved to give attention to the small black and white dog and would be more than happy to watch him while she was out at lunch. Walking out, she followed a grinning Scott out of the bakery, knowing that the laughing eyes of her coworkers were fixed on the couple.

  “You two kids have fun!” Mrs. Applegate called before the door closed. Claire could hear happy chatter between Sandy and her boss as she walked away, toward a waiting pot roast.

  Chapter 2

  Main Street in Brightwater Bay had become one of Claire’s favorite places. The little shops and locally-owned stores lining the sidewalks were great fun to explore, even if it was just to window shop. As they drove by, Claire glanced at the wraparound porch of the old, Victorian-styled hardware store that sat on the corner. The wide planks were empty at this time of year, but she could imagine during the summer months that the owner would put out bins and tables of merchandise for people to peruse as they walked by. She’d been in there only a few times but loved the old charm of the potbelly stove that lent a cheery warmth to the inside.

  The town’s favorite café wasn’t far away, taking up a back corner of one of the blocks just off Main Street. A hand-painted sign with pink blossoms and the large words Dogwood Café faced the small parking lot, now nearly full of a usual lunchtime crowd.