The Mud Pie Murderess: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery by Stacey Alabaster

with her the day she was killed. And why he is so desperate to keep it a secret."
    A politician trying to keep both his wife and his mistress happy. For a second, I almost sympathized with him. Then I reminded myself of what he had done.
    "So... What are we thinking?" Pippa mused. "He killed her to keep his marriage intact? Or because she was his biggest threat politically?"
    I shrugged. "Or both," I pointed out. "A double motive." No wonder he'd had such a vested interest in not being seen at the bakery that day. He'd probably paid off each of his dining companions, knowing that if any of them said he was there at the scene of the crime, he would look as guilty as sin.
    "This is good news for you though, Rachael," Pippa said.
    "Is it?" I asked.
    "Of course."
    I shook my head. "I know that Braxton Madison has a double motive. And I know he most likely killed Olive Styles. But there is no proof. He fled the scene. Paid off the witnesses. He's making me look crazy by even suggesting that he was there. It's hopeless," I said. If anything, finding this out about Braxton had just made me feel even more hopeless. I'd been hoping to find evidence that proved he was in the bakery. Instead, I'd found proof that he was guilty, and that he was going to get away with it. Nothing seemed clear to me. Everything just seemed foggy.
    "Anyway, let's get out of here," I said, giving her a little look. "Good luck charm," I added sarcastically.
    "Okay, okay," Pippa had to admit. "Maybe I'm not the good luck charm I thought I was, after all. Sorry, Rach," she said with a little pout. "Maybe I am your bad luck charm."
    "Hey, it's not your fault," I pointed out. "If you were my bad luck charm, you would have been there the day Olive was actually killed. But you were sick in bed. Chloe was there."

    * * *
    I woke up early the next morning and snuck out quietly so that I didn't wake Pippa. I ignored all the calls and texts from Chloe as well. Most of them were just her apologizing and wanting to know if I wanted to catch up and hang out.
    Huh. Hang out. Like I had time for that.
    But actually, the idea of just forgetting everything for a few hours, or just grabbing a coffee and chatting with a friend, seemed really appealing. I wished I could have dropped everything and hung out with Chloe for a while.
    But I had an appointment I had to keep. And even though it was one I really, really didn't want to keep, I had to.
    The bank loomed in front of me. It seemed even greyer than usual, even though some of the signage was in red.
    I walked through the doors and headed straight for the "Loans" section where I had an appointment with my loan manager. He was late. Which only gave me more time to stew over my predicament.
    The last time I'd been here had been to take out a loan to expand my bakery. That's how well business was going. Now I was there to discuss whether I could even keep the bakery running.
    Finally, Mr. Brooks, a youngish man in his late twenties with thinning ginger hair that seemed like it was hair sprayed to his head, walked in through the doors. I wasn't sure whether I was relieved to see him or not, but better to get the whole thing over with.
    He settled on the other side of the desk and gave me a stern look. "You missed your latest loan payment, Miss Robinson."
    I nodded. I'd been prepared for this, and I had a plan. "I just need another small loan, Mr. Brooks, just to tide me over until business turns around. Within no time at all, I'll be back on track."
    His red helmet hair didn't move as he stared at me. "Aren't you known as the Mud Pie Murderess?" he asked me. Great. So he'd heard about that. "How do you believe business is ever going to turn around, Rachael?" He shook his head. "Given your current...predicament, we can't give you any more loans. And we are going to have to demand immediate payment on the current overdue balance."
    "But...but," I said, stumbling over my words. "But, Mr. Brooks, I don't have the money to pay the