Inside the note, at the top of the paper: What is Frankie DiMarco afraid of?

“Uh-oh,” Danny said, making sure to get Frankie’s reaction to the note in his shot. “Looks like it’s Frankie’s turn to get spooked now.”

“Oh great,” Frankie said, looking at the pot of soil with a different look on their face. “Just great.”

“What?” Becca said, confused. “What is it, Frankie?”

“That dirt.” Frankie’s eyes did not move from the giant pot of black grainy soil. “It’s not actually dirt.”

“What do you mean?” Becca asked, still not getting it. Frankie was afraid of dirt?

“I’m most afraid of unfamiliar food,” Frankie explained. They looked at the pot warily. “A chef likes to know how their food was prepared. It’s just how I am. I don’t like to eat something unless I know exactly how it was made.”

Becca noticed that Danny was back to filming the note in her hand. Looking down, she saw that there was more written beneath What is Frankie DiMarco afraid of?

“Frankie knows about all types of food,” she read out loud. “But what do they know about king cake?”

“Noooo,” Frankie said, covering their face with their hands. “Not a king cake.”

“What’s a king cake?” Becca asked, confused, then read the rest of the note: “Frankie must eat dirt.”

“A traditional king cake,” Frankie said with a sigh, “is baked with a small item inside, usually a small plastic baby, as weird as that sounds.”

“A baby cake?” Danny asked, raising his brow. “Now that does sound weird.”

“Whoever ends up getting served the piece with the baby in it gets good luck for a year,” Frankie went on. “Or, depending on which tradition you’re following, has to be the one to provide the king cake at the next party.”

“I’m still having a hard time connecting the dots between the cake and the clue about the silkworms,” Becca admitted, looking at the package of candy on the counter. “And what does the big pot of dirt mean?”

“It’s a dirt cake,” Frankie said. “The note said Frankie must eat dirt. Watch this.” They stepped forward, sunk their fingertips into the dark soil, and plucked out a gummy worm that’d been hidden below the surface. The gummy was covered in a thick, gooey brown—was that chocolate pudding?

“I’m pretty sure there’s going to be something hidden in this dirt cake,” Frankie said. “Maybe a key to get out of here or something.”

Becca noticed something that she hadn’t noticed before. Tucked behind the big pot was a napkin, and on top of the napkin were three spoons that were sparkling clean.

“No way,” Frankie said when their eyes followed Becca’s stare to the spoons. “No way I’m touching this cake. We have no idea who made it, or how they made it.”