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

green lawn to where Angel stood, surrounded by well-wishers.
    "You should be doing this, Chloe," I said. "I mean, Bridget," I corrected myself, looking at her nametag. "You're closer to her age than I am."
    Chloe looked me up and down. "You're only thirty, though. That's not that old."
    I just stared at her. "I'm twenty-six."
    She went bright red. "I'm sorry, Rachael, I didn't mean anything."
    But there wasn't time to worry about that then, or to take any offense. I'd probably just stew on the comment later.
    I had to do this before I lost my nerve.
    I finished off my champagne and headed straight towards Angel Styles while Chloe hung back a bit.
    She smiled a little uncertainly as I approached her. It was my intention to appear as though I knew her, like we'd met before, and I figured she'd be too polite and too well raised to question it, at least to my face.
    "Hi there, Angel," I said warmly, as though I was greeting an old friend.
    She nodded and kept the smile on her face as she glanced nervously at my nametag. "Hi...Diane," she said, before I reached out to embrace her.
    "It's good to see that you're looking so well, after everything that has happened," I said, pulling away from her, but with both hands still on her shoulders. "I'm really sorry to hear about your mom," I said. "She was a wonderful woman."
    "Thanks," Angel said. She kept looking around nervously for someone to save her from this awkward encounter.
    "I'm Andrew's sister," I said. "Do you not recognize me?"
    "Of course I did," Angel said. So, she was polite. But was she a murderer?
    I tried to look around to find Chloe for some help. She was younger, closer to Angel's age. She might know what to actually say to a teenager. I was stuck there feeling old and awkward.
    I took a sip of my champagne to bide some time while I thought about how to get the info out of her.
    I needed to find out whether she'd snuck into the bakery while her mother had been in there.
    I wasn't quite sure how to casually work it into the conversation, especially since our conversation hadn't been casual at all. Polite and well mannered as she was, I could see her eyes darting around, looking for an exit strategy. I could tell she was about to excuse herself to go talk to someone with better social skills. Or at least someone she didn't have to pretend she knew.
    "So how are you coping?" I asked quickly, desperate to keep her in front of me. If I lost her now, I'd never get her back.
    She blinked slowly a few times. "It's been tough," she said quietly. "Just trying to make it through today, you know?"
    I nodded. "I know you wish your mom was here," I said. "I bet she'd be really proud of you to see you graduating."
    "It's just high school," she said, looking at me a little strangely. "Kind of the least that my mother expected of me," she said, a little bitterly. She took a sharp breath. "I didn't get into the college she wanted me to," Angel continued, looking into her own champagne flute, which I stared at as well for a second, trying to figure out if it was non-alcoholic. "We were arguing about it the night before she died," Angel went on candidly. "She was furious at me." She shook her head and took a large swig. There were tears glistening in her eyes as she drank. "She was threatening not to pay for my college at all, saying she was going to cut me off for attending what she considered an inferior college."
    Huh. This was interesting. Very interesting indeed. That definitely spoke towards motive. Money was a very powerful motivator in murder cases—I'd learned that already. I couldn't believe how lucky I was getting, how Angel was just opening up to me like this. Maybe it was because I was older. Maybe I reminded her of her mother.
    "I'm sure your mother knew that you loved her, though," I said, placing my palm gently on her forearm, trying to be comforting. I watched her face closely for signs of strain, signs that she was faking this grief.
    I cleared my throat. "And I'm sure