The Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery Bundle 4

“Either I’ve lost it,” Bee said, as she handed a Bite-sized Bakery box to a customer, “or those two radishes are fighting.” 

“That has to be the weirdest thing you’ve ever said,” I replied. “And there’s been stiff competition for that title.” 

“Ugh. Don’t say stiff.” Bee rang up the customer’s order and handed her the change. She pointed past the neat rows of folks lined up in front of the food truck’s window. “Seriously, though, am I seeing things?” 

I looked over and did a double take. “Nope. You’re right. There are two radishes having an argument over… what’s that? Is that a…?” 

“Another radish,” Bee said. “And I thought Prattlebark Village was weird. Sheesh.” 

Bee and I had arrived in Yesterday, Pennsylvania, bright and early this morning—a tiny town with a confusing name. “When did you arrive in Yesterday?” sounded more like a line from a time travel movie than a serious question, but here we were. 

We’d parked our food truck on Main Street, right across from the cutesy boutiques with their paved sidewalks, slips of grass out front, and wrought iron lamps, to get a feel for the locals.

So far, we’d encountered friendly people who were excited at the prospect of newcomers bearing delicious treats—like our raspberry dipped donuts. And then there were the radishes. 

Most of the customers lined up in front of the truck had a small radish pinned to the front of their coats. That was odd, but this? 

Two full-grown men dressed from head-to-toe in radish costumes were having an argument across the street, tugging an actual radish—the vegetable kind, not a person, small child or pet dressed as a radish—between them. 

I blinked and shook my head. 

We’d encountered plenty of weirdness on the truck over the past two years, but this was on another level. 

“Good morning!” A smiling woman with wispy red hair stepped up to the window of the truck. “Oh wow, this place smells amazing. Coffee and donuts. What more could a woman want?” 

I grinned back at her. She had a nice vibe—calm and friendly. 

“Well,” Bee said, “this woman wants to know why everyone’s wearing radishes or dressed as radishes or fighting over radishes.” 

Our new customer’s laugh came out as a squeal of delight. Bee jolted, pressing a hand to her chest. 

“Sorry,” the woman said. “Sorry. I’ve got a wild laugh. No sense in keeping quiet when you’re laughing, I always say. I’m Maddie, by the way, Maddie Jameson. And you are?” 

Maddie? Wait, that was the name of the owner of the guesthouse we’d be staying in. “I’m Ruby, and this is Bee. You own the Mourning Dove Guesthouse, right? We’re booked in for the next two weeks.” 

“Oh wow, wonderful,” Maddie said, enthusiastically. “It’s nice to have newcomers in town. You get bored with the same old faces, and there’s only, like, three thousand people in Yesterday.” 

“Seriously,” Bee grunted. “What’s with the radishes?” 

“Right, right, sorry.” Maddie let out another obscene pig squeal of laughter. “Sorry. It’s radish season, you see? We’ve got the annual Yesterday Radish Festival coming up tomorrow, so everybody’s celebrating in style.” 

“Is this what’s considered style nowadays?” Bee asked, arching a gray eyebrow at the two radishes, now on the ground, wrestling each other for the vegetable. 

“Oh yes, definitely,” Maddie said. “I can understand it might be a little disconcerting for newcomers, but this is how we do it in Yesterday. Radishes are an important part of the economy around here. The high school’s football team is called the Raving Radishes, for example.” 

“Goodness. I’m glad we arrived in time for the festivities,” I said. “Maybe we can set up the truck tomorrow and serve festivalgoers.”  

“That’s a great idea.” Maddie bopped up and down on the spot. She was young and happy, and that was always a good thing. Heavens, it was nice to have a warm welcome for once. Even if she had a strange laugh. “I’m sure folks will appreciate that.” 

“You mean when they’re not fighting over radishes?” Bee asked. 

Maddie grew somber. “People take their radishes seriously in this town. There are several radish farms, and the person who wins the Radish Award, for the best radish crop, wins fifteen thousand dollars.” 

“Holy!” Bee cleared her throat. “I see.”

“We’ll bear that in mind,” I said. “Anything I can get for you, Miss Jameson?” 

“Call me Maddie. And one of those donuts would be great! Oh, and a cup of coffee, please.” 

“Will do!” I packaged the donut for her—a glistening, pink donut with raspberry crunch sprinkles—and prepared her coffee. I handed the box over, accepted her payment, and rang up the order. 

A strange hush descended on the crowd just as I was handing Maddie her change. People in the rows shifted, rippling forward as a tall man forced his way through the crowd. 

He wore a plaid shirt, a pair of jeans, and an expression of importance that sent people scattering around him. He navigated the line, pushing ahead of everyone without complaint, and stepped up next to Maddie. 

“William,” Maddie simpered. “Nice to see you off the farm.” 

“Maddie.” He nodded, but didn’t so much as look in her direction, his gaze fixed on the specials board in the truck. 

“You’re not supposed to cut in front of people in the line,” Bee said. 

William ignored her. 

This, obviously, did not go down well with Bee. She lifted a spatula and tapped it against her palm. “I’m going to have to—”

“Don’t worry, Bee,” Maddie said. “Everybody wants William to get served first. He’s kind of a celebrity around here. He’s won the Radish Award three years in a row, now.” 

“Four years. Tomorrow’s a foregone conclusion,” William said. 

“I’m Ruby,” I replied, “and this is Bee.” 

“How rude of me.” Maddie wrung her hands. “So sorry, Ruby. This is William Williams, the best radish farmer in Yesterday.” 

“And tomorrow,” William said, tipping the brim of a hat that wasn’t on his head toward me. “Pleasure’s all mine. Can I get one of those donuts? Fast too. I’ve got to get back to the farm to prep everything for the festival.” His voice was a drone, like he’d never been more bored in his life. 

“Sure.” I prepped the donut for him and placed it in a box. 

He paid the exact amount of money, then popped the box’s lid open and examined the donut inside. “What flavor’s this?” 

“Radish flavor,” Bee said. 

“She means raspberry.” 

“Oh.” The unimpressed celebrity farmer—words I’d never anticipated thinking, let alone uttering—removed the donut from the box and took a bite. He chewed. “Not bad,” he said. “Not bad.” 

“The only compliment I’ve ever wanted.” Bee clasped her hands to her chest, fluttering her eyelashes, and positively dripping sarcasm. 

“Anyone ever told you, you’ve got a smart mouth?” William asked, setting the donut back in his box, and using a paper napkin to wipe sweat from his brow. “Darn, it’s hot today.” 

It was the start of spring, but there was a definite bite to the breeze. It wasn’t hot. 

“Are you all right, William?” Maddie asked. “You’ve been looking pale of late.” 

“Just the flu. I—I—” William coughed and tugged at the collar of his shirt. He stumbled, the box and donut dropping from his fingers. “I—” The radish farm grasped at his throat, choking, then keeled over backward on the sidewalk. 

Screams and chaos ensued.