Strawberry Scandal, page 1
STRAWBERRY SCANDAL
CUPCAKE CRIMES SERIES
BOOK TWELVE
MOLLY MAPLE
MARY E. TWOMEY, LLC
CONTENTS
Strawberry Scandal
About Strawberry Scandal
1. Facing Fears
2. Little City Mouse
3. Peeking Behind Police Tape
4. Executive Level Gold-Standard Flyers
5. Betty’s Adventures
6. Shopping for Strawberries
7. Library Love
8. No Donuts for Jen
9. Strawberry Distractions
10. Holding Kurt’s Hand
11. Cupcakes Without Agenda
12. Cupcakes With Agenda
13. Marianne’s Hidden Clue
14. Garbage Diving
15. Sneaky Romeo
16. Slumber Party Sisters
17. Dave the Flight Instructor
18. Missing Bloody Shoe
19. Library All-Nighter
20. The Sergeant’s Night Off
21. Chamchucha
22. Guilty
23. Karen’s Warning
24. Strawberry Festival
Strawberry Balsamic Cupcake Recipe
25. Pomeranian Puzzle Preview
About the Author
STRAWBERRY SCANDAL
Book Twelve in the Cupcake Crimes Series
By
Molly Maple
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2025 Mary E. Twomey LLC
Cover Art by Emcat Designs
All rights reserved.
First Edition: October 2025
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
For information:
www.MollyMapleMysteries.com
DEDICATION
To Sparkle Pants,
My little snuggle muffin.
ABOUT STRAWBERRY SCANDAL
When crossing a daring item off the bucket list turns into a murder investigation, Charlotte McKay isn’t sure where to turn.
Charlotte and Marianne were supposed to face their fears of flying when the Live Forever Club signed them up for flight lessons. But when the pilot’s body is found, Charlotte discovers a whole new layer of fear, along with a slew of suspects she wasn’t expecting.
Finding the body puts Charlotte smack in the middle of the police station’s drama, which goes well beyond the superficial. Dark secrets lurk in the background, and Charlotte knows that if she doesn’t unearth the truth, the killer will surely strike again.
"Strawberry Scandal" is filled with layered clues and cozy moments, written by Molly Maple, which is a pen name for a USA Today bestselling author.
1
FACING FEARS
Marianne has had a green tint to her skin all morning, but she’s done her best to plaster on a brave face. It’s not until she grabs up her purse to leave the house I share with my great-aunt Winnie that Marianne puts volume to her concern. “Charlotte, I can’t do this.”
Aunt Winnie fluffs her shoulder-length silver curls that she’s pinned back from her chipper face with two pink clips. Her sea-green eyes are bright with her usual mix of joy and mischief. “Nonsense. You can do anything you set your mind to. You’re Marianne the Wild.”
Agnes winds her arm through Marianne’s. Her rounded cheeks curve into a jovial smile. It shows off the rosiness of her cheeks when paired with the pink of her lipstick. “Just think, Marianne; tomorrow, you won’t be able to say that you can’t fly an airplane. This flight lesson we got you a few months back is just the ticket to shake the cobwebs off you.”
Marianne looks like she might be sick. “What if I like my cobwebs? What if they keep me upright?”
Agnes tightens her arm through Marianne’s, bumping my bestie with her generous hips. “That’s what you’ve got us for.” She releases Marianne’s arm and motions for the two of us to stand together. “Now, let me get a picture for Karen. She would never forgive me if she didn’t get photographic evidence of your big moment. She’s with Janet and Baby Rachel at the pediatrician.”
Only for Karen Newby, our feisty eighty-nine-year-old friend, and the third founding member of the Live Forever Club, would we attempt to twist our blanched expressions into smiles. We would do anything for her amusement.
Agnes grins, her rounded cheeks lifting as she checks the result. “Perfection.”
I pick up Marianne’s latest read from the coffee table and tuck it into the compartment in her purse that’s meant to hold books. It was the perfect birthday gift for a librarian, if I do say so myself. “I’ll be with you the whole time,” I assure her. Though, I have no idea how to fly an airplane, so I’m thinking my vow of camaraderie is not all that reassuring.
Marianne fixes her eyes on mine. “That had better not be a figurative promise, but a literal one. This gift certificate is for the both of us.”
I chuckle at her desperation. “I know that. I’ll be in the airplane with you.”
Crashing right alongside you.
My stomach has been in knots since Aunt Winnie booked the appointment for us. They are determined not to let us off the hook. The Live Forever Club doesn’t celebrate in normal ways, so when they wanted to show us their affection, I should have known it would be in a manner that might push us far past our comfort zone.
Fortunately, I have grown used to expecting the unexpected, and to never get stuck in a doldrum chain of habits. If Agnes, Karen, and Aunt Winnie’s goal is to live forever, who am I to look at their smiles and the events that put them on their faces and question the logic (or lack thereof)?
Marianne, however, is not so sure. We wave goodbye to Aunt Winnie and Agnes, and get into my red sedan, pulling onto the dirt road that takes us out of our small town of Sweetwater Falls. Everything is beautiful in our cozy town. The businesses on the main thoroughfare have cheery flowers decorating their windowsills. Children are chasing each other around unlit lampposts, playing ambitious games of tag. Squirrels are unencumbered by the sweltering heat, skittering up thick trunks to add to their stashes of stolen nuts.
Despite the loveliness of the day, all I want is to turn this car around and head back home. The problem is that I know we’ll be greeted by two senior citizens who have more moxie than we have excuses.
“Where is this place?” Marianne asks when my speed picks up after we cross the city limits outside of Sweetwater Falls. I blow a kiss to the sign marking our town that reads “Welcome to Sweetwater Falls. Population 5,682.” Everything comforting and homey is passing by, and now we’re delving into the unfamiliar on a mission neither of us are jonesing to try.
“Not far. About ten miles from here. The flight lessons are in Hamshire.”
Marianne nods. “So you’re saying I have ten miles to talk you out of this? Have I mentioned I’m afraid of heights? And flights? This is the worst combination for me, Charlotte.”
I chuckle, even though I am nearly as nervous as she is. “You’ve said that one or two times an hour for the past few days, yes.”
“What about the fact that I’ve never flown in a plane ever in my life? Did you know that? My first time in an airplane shouldn’t be when I’m behind the wheel of one!” Her pixie cut hair curls near her chin, framing her frown.
I grimace. “I actually didn’t know that. Yikes. Did the Live Forever Club know when they got us these gift certificates?”
Marianne nods. “I’m pretty sure that’s why they chose this.” She throws her head back, her hair swooshing against the headrest. “We could have had a quiet Saturday afternoon together.” Her arm darts out and grips my elbow with desperation. “We could still ditch this and go to lunch somewhere. My treat!”
I sigh, wishing it was that simple. “You don’t want to live your whole life only to get to the end and find that you’ve never lived at all.” It’s the thing I’ve been telling myself since Aunt Winnie solidified the date for us.
Marianne narrows her brown eyes at me. She looks like an angry pixie with her short chocolate-colored hair and dainty stature. “You sound like Winnie, talking like that.”
“I learn from the best.” I smirk at her, pretending my stomach isn’t on the verge of emptying itself. It's important I keep my chin up and my smile in place, lest Marianne catch sight of the cracks in my show of bravery. It’s a miracle I got her into the car in the first place. “Tell me about the book you’re reading,” I suggest.
It’s my best distraction, and I reach for it as often as Marianne’s nerves require. She tells me all about the plots that enthrall her, and I learn a little about literature from a true professional. Marianne regales me with the murder mystery she’s reading all the way there, stopping only when we catch sight of a sign directing us to the airfield.
When I park in the field where I am pretty sure we are allowed to leave our vehicles (though there are no marked spaces), I link my littlest finger through Marianne’s. “Let’s do this, even if we crash and burn.”
Probably not my best pep talk.
Marianne whimpers, tinted impossibly greener than she was when we left the house.
We exit my car, and I take a deep breath, soaking in the scent of the field tha
I’ll be busy trying not to crash an airplane—a sentence I never thought would apply to me.
I’m a homebody, an introvert with a problem speaking up for what I want. Or, at least, that was me until I moved from Chicago to Sweetwater Falls to “take care of” my elderly great-aunt Winnie. I never would have guessed it would be her taking care of me, showing me how to open my mouth and go after what I want in life. Before her, I was a girl who liked to bake in my apartment, hoping to one day do something bigger with my passion.
Now I’m the twenty-eight-year-old woman with her wavy hair in a blonde bun, blue eyes ready to take on the world.
Or, at least, a small portion of the skies.
And “ready” might be too bold a statement, but I am happy to report that I am not tinged with green as we walk toward the small office building off to the side of the field.
Though, if I didn’t have to feign tranquility for Marianne, I might be just as ill at the prospect of cashing in these gift certificates. I’d hoped the Live Forever Club would forget they’d given them to us, but no such luck. Our three guardian angels have a penchant for knowing exactly what we need, and they’re not afraid to give us a push to get there.
“Distract me,” Marianne begs, linking her littlest finger through mine once more. “What’s the cupcake of the month going to be?”
My mouth pulls to the side while I contemplate this conundrum that surfaces every month like clockwork. When Marianne and the Live Forever Club encouraged me to take my passion seriously, my dream of opening a cupcake shop turned into a reality. Now I am the owner of the Bravery Bakery—specializing in the world’s best honey cakes. It’s a job I thought could only happen in my imagination. But I am one of the lucky people who have amazing women in my life. They push me to go after what I want, even when I am too timid to claim that next level aloud.
I shake my head at Marianne’s question. “I have no idea what the cupcake flavor of the month should be. I’m a chocolate lover, but the thought of something rich in this heat makes me nauseous.”
Marianne stops our progression, keeling over at the middle and palming her stomach with her free hand. “Speaking of nauseous.” She lets out a low moan. “Does it count as flying a plane if I barf all over it the second we take off?”
“As far as I’m concerned, if the instructor lets us touch the steering control, and the wheels leave the ground an inch, it counts.”
Marianne straightens, her eyes suddenly sunshiny, wide with renewed hope that this day won’t end in disaster (or vomit). “Really?”
I blow a loud raspberry. “Are you kidding me? I don’t want to do this either!”
Marianne throws her head back. “Then why are we here?”
I chuckle at the pickle in which we’ve found ourselves. “Because I know that we are due for an adventure.”
“Even if it kills us?”
I tsk her. “Agnes would say that’s the best kind of adventure.”
I lead the way to the office, but frown when I find it’s locked. “Hmm. Aunt Winnie confirmed the appointment last week. Weird.”
Marianne brightens with a clear liveliness at the potential free pass to ditch flying lessons and still claim we tried. “I guess we’re off the hook!” she sings.
I snicker at her sudden levity as we turn toward the hangar. “I’m sure they’re over there. This isn’t a major airport or anything. Looks like a small operation that might not need full-time office help. Come on.”
Marianne’s shoulders lower in defeat. “Oh, fine. But if I throw up, I’m aiming it your way.”
I smirk at her threat as we walk toward the giant metal garage-like structure and poke our heads inside the opened front area. I spy a small airplane on the end, but no one in sight. I fan myself with the vouchers, wishing the hangar was air conditioned.
Actually, if I’m wishing for things, it would be to take myself far away from this pursuit.
I take hold of Marianne’s hand and lead her to the airplane, determined to make this happen. There is no way I’m going through another sleepless night, worrying about flying a plane in the morning. We’re doing this now or never.
And I know the Live Forever Club won’t accept never as an option. Karen Newby would suggest taking the plane for a spin without the licensed pilot, so I guess it’s a bonus that she’s not here.
“Huh. You see that? The door is open. The pilot is probably inside.” I make my way toward the plane. The thing looks both too large for us to fly while being simultaneously too small to be safe bobbing in the sky. Marianne and I maneuver around three tipped-over oil drums that thankfully have their lids in place. “That doesn’t give me a whole lot of confidence,” I point out. I create many a merry mess in my commercial kitchen, but it’s always cleaned up by the end of the night. I can’t imagine starting out my day with this kind of chaos.
Marianne nods, voicing my thoughts like only the best of friends can do. “Agreed. If I waltzed into your cupcake shop and found bags of flour toppled over on the floor, I would think twice about ordering anything.”
I smile at Marianne. “Please always waltz into my cupcake shop.” I guide us to the popped-open door of the too-small-yet-too-big plane, wincing when I touch the heated metal handle. “Excuse me, I…”
But what greets us isn’t the friendly smile of the pilot. Instead, horror creeps over me when I discover the bloated form of a man with a large bloody gash across his forehead. It is clear by the stench of the body in the hot interior that he has been sitting in this airplane for longer than just a few minutes, waiting for us to cash in our gift certificates. His cargo pants and t-shirt are littered with grass stains. His head is lolled forward, resting atop the control panel that gave me nightmares for most of past week, what with all those scary buttons and levers that mean absolutely nothing to me, and probably should if I’m expected to get behind the wheel of this thing. His face is aimed at us, his blood dried on the dash.
My breath catches in my throat as the scent of death permeates my nose. My scream stays trapped inside while my eyes widen with terror. I fall back, my body going cold, despite the heat of the hangar’s metal door that still stings my palm.
Marianne turns to the side and vomits on the concrete.
What was supposed to be a day of facing our fears has turned into the two of us unwittingly looking death in its bloody face.
2
LITTLE CITY MOUSE
Amug of hot coffee is placed in my palm. While I am grateful for the kindness, I set it on the desk across from the policewoman immediately. My stomach lurches at the thought of consuming a steaming beverage. It’s not just because I take my coffee with a scoop of frosting to sweeten it, it’s that anything in my stomach right now seems like a bad idea.
Coffee would make a poor choice for a summer cupcake flavor, so I cross that off my list. Maybe I’ll try something like that for one of the harsher winter months.
Like that’s the thing to focus on right now.
The police officer leans forward, her elbows on her desk as she takes in my pallor, which is no brighter than Marianne’s sickly shade. “I’m so sorry you found Gary like that. It’s awful. I think I’m still catching up to the facts.” She opens a small flip spiral notebook and clicks her pen, poising it to the page. She’s in her late thirties, with a sharp look to her umber eyes and smooth matching skin. Her nametag reads “Sgt Williams.” Her uniform is impeccable with nothing out of place. She seems the perfect blend of kind and sharp. “Why don’t you walk me through what you saw?”
I’m shaken, and even through her professional demeanor, I can see that she is upset too. I would think big city police might be accustomed to opening murder investigations, but it’s nice to know her intrinsic humanity hasn’t dulled with duty.
