Sugar and Iced (Cupcake Bakery Mystery) by Jenn McKinlay

yesterday didn’t bode well for her. She would be the one that Manny and Uncle Stan looked at first. She had to have an alibi.
    “Where were you this morning?” Mel asked.
    “Studying,” Lupe said. She looked miserable.
    “Did anyone see you?” Mel asked. “Please tell me someone saw you.”
    “You’re being overly dramatic. She doesn’t need an alibi,” Joyce insisted. “She’s an eighteen-year-old girl, not a killer.”
    “Who’s not a killer?” Uncle Stan asked as he joined them.
    Joyce and Mel exchanged alarmed glances. When did he get here and how much had he heard?
    A love of Mel’s cupcakes and every other sweet he could lay his chubby fingers on had given Uncle Stan a physique that took up more than its fair share of real estate, so it wasn’t often that he got the drop on anyone.
    “They’re talking about me,” Lupe said. Mel and Joyce began to protest, but Lupe held up her hand. “Let’s just get it out there. Mariel Mars tried to have me booted from the pageant yesterday. She was pretty mean, but I didn’t kill her.”
    Uncle Stan blinked as he took in the young woman before him. “Hey, aren’t you the girl who hangs out with Oz?”
    Lupe nodded.
    “I almost didn’t recognize you without the . . .” Uncle Stan paused and wiggled his fingers over his bare forehead.
    Lupe cracked a smile. “Green bangs?”
    “I think they were pink the last time I saw you,” he said.
    “I liked the pink,” Lupe said. Her voice was wistful, as if she were longing for more than her old hairdo—like, maybe her old life.
    Stan glanced at the three of them. “So, what happened?”
    “Well, Mariel Mars is a hideous, vile, nasty woman,” Joyce began.
    “This is the victim?” Stan asked.
    “Yes,” Joyce confirmed.
    “And still you’re describing her to me in such derogatory terms, knowing that I am a homicide detective?” he asked.
    “You’re my brother-in-law,” Joyce said. “I am giving you the unvarnished truth.”
    Mel met Uncle Stan’s gaze and rolled her eyes. He tucked his lips in, trying to hide his smile.
    “Anyway, Mariel scored Lupe thirty points lower than any other judge on her interview yesterday,” Joyce said. “So I challenged Mariel about it and, oh, did she ever throw a fit.”
    Stan’s smile disappeared. “You challenged her?”
    “I was just looking for some accountability,” Joyce said.
    “Did anyone else see this quest for accountability?” Stan asked.
    “Well, Lupe was with me,” Joyce said. Mel could tell she was trying to avoid answering the question. Probably she was afraid she was going to give Stan a heart attack. Mel figured they’d best just get it over with.
    “The entire lobby area, which was full, heard Mom and Mariel disagree.”
    “They also might have heard me threaten her,” Lupe said.
    “Threaten her how?” Stan asked.
    “I may have said something like ‘hurt my friends and I’ll make you pay,’” Lupe said.
    “Oh, and you told her if she hurt us, you’d hurt her bad,” Joyce said. Lupe gave her a wide-eyed stare. “Or something like that,” Joyce muttered.
    Uncle Stan started patting his shirtfront pocket and Mel knew he was searching for his antacid pills. When that yielded no results, he patted his front pants pockets. Then he looked around as if a pack of Tums might appear on the floor.
    “Here you go.” Manny held out an unopened roll of the chalky tablets to Stan. He looked at Mel and said, “I started carrying them when we partnered up.”
    Stan glowered but took the pack. “What have we got?”
    “At a quick glance, we have a middle-aged female vic, strangled with a beauty pageant sash. Given the claw marks on her throat, she put up a fight,” Manny said. “You ready to have a look?”
    Uncle Stan nodded. Mel studied him, wondering if he was going to tell Manny what they had told him.
    “Stick around,” Uncle Stan said to Joyce. “I’m going to look over the scene. I’ll be back shortly.”
    Joyce nodded.