Flourless to Stop Him by Nancy J. Parra

go make sure those two newbies aren’t tearing your room apart.”
    I watched Brad expertly corral my brother and push him up the stairs. Then I frowned at Officer Emry. “Tim didn’t know it was Harold. How could you be such a jerk?”
    “Oh, he knew,” Officer Emry said. “He and Harold were drug dealing together and I’m going to find proof.”
    “There aren’t any drugs in this house.”
    “Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?” he asked. “It would be best if you leave this investigation to the professionals.”
    “Oh, I’m not going to investigate. I have dozens of cookies on order and I’m not feeling well. The last thing I have time for is to follow up ridiculous clues some idiot is falsifying to frame my brother.”
    “Good,” Emry said and sniffed. “See that you stay out of this investigation.”
    “Quit coming into my home and I’ll be happy to stay out of it.”
    “Keep your brother out of your house and I will have no need.” His blue eyes glittered.
    “He’s my brother, and this is his home.” I gazed at him defiantly and scrunched my eyebrows. “What is it that you have against Tim anyway?”
    “Hey, I’m going to go pick Grandma Ruth up for an early senior dinner,” Mindy said. She had pulled on a camel-colored wool trench coat and brown gloves. “Want to come?”
    “I can’t,” I said as Officer Emry moved on to the den. “I’ve got to get back to the bakery.”
    Mindy shook her head. “It takes a lot of dedication to be a baker if you’re going when you’re not feeling well. Wait—can you do that? Can you cook when you’re sick?”
    I let out a long breath. “First of all, I have celiac disease. It’s a chronic condition that is not contagious. You can’t give it to anyone . . . except maybe your children, as it tends to run in families.”
    “Wait, we’re family.”
    “Yes, and you should be tested. Sometimes the symptoms can be masked or show up in arthritis or other autoimmune problems,” I answered. “Not that a blood test is conclusive. Second of all, I’m devoted to my work because it’s my dream job. I’m living my dream life.” I waved my hand.
    “Your dream life includes caring for your mother’s house and being invaded by policemen at random?” Mindy’s eyes were hard. She snorted. “Some dream.”
    “Okay, so it’s not a perfect dream.” I shrugged. “But it’s my dream. What’s yours?”
    “My dream?” Mindy pursed her red-painted mouth. “To live in New York and to have money and sophistication.”
    “How’s that working for you?” I put my hands on my hips.
    Mindy’s mouth went flat and she wrung her hands. “I’m fine. I have a great apartment in Manhattan and that is far better than some old house in Oiltop, Kansas.”
    I took a deep breath. Mindy had never been my favorite cousin. She always hated to acknowledge that we were her family. As a kid she’d told everyone she was an orphan. As soon as she’d graduated high school, she had left Kansas for New York and never looked back. That is, until she showed up at my door this morning.
    “Look I don’t want to fight.” I put up my hands. “I’m a little cranky is all. Go have dinner with Grandma. Tell her I said hi.”
    Mindy’s shoulders relaxed. “Okay. I will.” She gave me a quick hug. “Keep an eye on that gorgeous lawyer for me, okay?”
    “I’m sure you’re better at that than I am,” I said and patted her back.
    “I know.” She grinned and winked.
    A glance at the clock in the foyer told me it was nearly four. I needed to find Brad and see if he would stay until the cops left so that I could get back to the bakery.
    My biggest hope was that this time, they didn’t confiscate anything of value, like my computer. During my last investigation they took my computer, which was bad. A lot of my online business information was on that computer. Whichreminded me, I should probably get a backup for my hard drive. I added that item to my mental