A Mouthful of Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery Book 4 (Frosted Love Mysteries) (2 page)

She
had left her cell phone in the house. When she got in and checked, there were
several missed calls from Chas, along with a text message that said only, ‘call
me immediately when you receive this.’ Puzzled, she hit #1 and send on her
phone to call the handsome detective on his cell.

“Missy,
where have you been?” Beckett said in a low voice when she answered the phone.

“Toffee
and I went to the park to play fetch, why?” she asked, somewhat alarmed at his
manner.

“Are
you at home?” he ignored her question.

“Yes,
of course. Chas, what is going on? Why are you acting so strangely?” she
demanded, worried.

“Stay
put, we’ll talk when I get there.” He hung up without even waiting for a
response. Missy was baffled. Chas was a quiet person, but his manners were
impeccable. She couldn’t begin to imagine what might have happened that caused
him to act like this. Figuring that she’d find out soon enough, she hurriedly
showered and changed into clean beige linen shorts and a black sleeveless
blouse, putting her curly golden locks up in a casual ponytail. When Chas rang
the doorbell a few minutes after she finished dressing, she opened the door
with a smile, but he breezed in the house passing her without even a peck on
the cheek.

“Chas,
for heaven’s sake, what is wrong?” she asked, frustrated and a bit hurt.

“Come
sit down,” he gestured to the spot next to him on her comfy, overstuffed couch.
She did as he asked, still wondering. “The entire police force has been
instructed to be on the lookout for you. I’ve been told to stay away because of
a conflict of interest, but I had to come over here to talk to you for myself.
Cheryl and Ben said you left the shop after they did, but can you account for
your time this afternoon?” he asked, urgently.

“I
left the shop around 4:00, came home, changed into athletic wear and took
Toffee to the park. I got in just before I called you, why? What is going on,
Chas?” Missy was beginning to get scared.

“Missy…”
he began gently. “You’re wanted for questioning as a person of interest in a
homicide.”

“What?”
she interrupted. “That’s impossible! Wait, who died?” she asked, dreading the
answer.

“Mrs.
Nesbitt,” Beckett answered softly. “I’m sorry.”

Missy’s
hands flew to her throat in shock and horror. “Oh no!” she exclaimed, tears pooling
in her eyes. “Not Cora. She was the sweetest…” Missy dissolved into tears.

“I
knew the two of you were friends, so it made no sense to me that you would be a
suspect, but apparently there is some evidence that implicates you.”

“Evidence?
What evidence? There can’t be evidence of a crime that I didn’t commit! Oh,
this is horrible, Chas,” she cried. “What happened to poor Mrs. Nesbitt?”

Beckett
sighed, running a hand through his thick black hair in frustration. “I can’t
discuss the case with you, Missy, it wouldn’t be good for either one of us. I’m
going to go now, so no one can say that anything inappropriate has occurred,
and there will probably be a squad car stopping by shortly. Just do what you
always do, tell the truth and you’ll be just fine.” Chas stood to go, gathering
the distraught woman into his arms for a gentle hug, then heading for the door.

Missy
was frustrated as she sat through an interrogation at the hands of another
LaChance Police Department detective, Gilbert Johnson.

“Detective
Johnson, I have told you three times now – I left the Crème de la Cupcake in
Dellville around 4:00. From there, I came home, changed into athletic wear and
took my dog, Toffee, to the park to play fetch. We got home from the park at
about 6:45, and your officers arrived at 7:15. What more is there to say?” she
demanded, tired, hungry and impatient.

“Why
do you think that there was a bushel basket full of peaches near Mrs. Nesbitt’s
back door that had a paper, with your name written on it, tucked into the
basket?” the detective grilled her with a glare.

“I
have no idea, but offhand, I’d guess that she had planned to bring me a bushel
of peaches so that I could make my peach muffins and cupcakes, like I do EVERY
YEAR!” Missy shot back, tired of Johnson’s insinuations.

“Did
you see Mrs. Nesbitt today?” the infuriating man asked.

“No,
I did not.”

“Did
anyone in your shop see Mrs. Nesbitt today?” Johnson persisted.

“I
doubt it. Cora always makes sure that she comes in whenever I’m there, so that
we can chat and catch up.”

“Would
either of your staff members have mentioned it if Mrs. Nesbitt had come in
during your absence?”

“Probably,
because she would have asked them to give me her best,” Missy said sadly,
remembering the kind soul.

“So
neither you, nor your staff saw Cora Nesbitt today, is that correct?”

“Right.
Why?” Missy wondered what Gilbert Johnson was getting at.

“Can
you explain to me then, how it came to be that one of your cupcakes was on her
table, sitting next to a cup of tea, when she died?”

“No,
I can’t explain it, unless someone else gave her one of my cupcakes.” Missy
gasped in horror as she had a sudden realization. “Detective, what kind of
cupcake was it?” she blurted, tears forming in her eyes.

“What
difference does it make?” Johnson narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

“If
it was a lemon cupcake with cream cheese frosting and a drizzle of raspberry on
top, I know who the killer is!” she exclaimed.

“For
the sake of argument, who do you think the killer would be if it was a cupcake
like you’ve just described?” he asked, avoiding answering directly.

“I
don’t know his name, but there was a strange man who came into my shop today.
Ben, Cheryl and I were testing out the batch of lemon cream cheese cupcakes,
and he asked if he could have one. I gave him one and he said he didn’t like
it, so I gave it to him for free, and then he finished it when he walked
outside.”

The
detective regarded her skeptically. “Changing one’s mind isn’t a crime, Ms.
Gladstone, and that doesn’t even begin to explain how the cupcake came to be
sitting on Cora’s table.”

“But
it does! The man asked for another cupcake to take to his mother, so I gave him
one, and before he left, he asked me if he could use the phone in the shop to
ask how to get to Cora’s, because he said he needed work and she was
advertising for peach pickers,” Missy explained.

“So
this ‘strange man’ knew Mrs. Nesbitt?”

“No,
he pulled her phone number off of a flyer that she had put up on my bulletin
board,” she admitted sadly, now feeling partially to blame.

“Did
the man give you his name?” Johnson resumed his rapid-fire questioning.

“No.”

“Do
you know if he’s from around here?”

“He
didn’t sound like it. No drawl at all,” Missy shook her head.

“I’m
going to need you to come with me,” the detective stated flatly.

“Where
are we going?” she asked, alarmed.

“Dellville.”

Missy
sat behind Gilbert Johnson in his unmarked car for the ride to her shop,
followed by a patrol car that pulled in behind them. She unlocked the front
door and the detective allowed her to enter, but instructed her not to touch
anything. A technician dusted her phone for fingerprints, collected the flyer
from the bulletin board, and discovered a cupcake wrapper that had been tossed
away on the front sidewalk. After the police had finished their investigation,
and taken notes on the description of the stranger, Missy locked up and rode
back to the station with Detective Johnson.

“I
appreciate your cooperation today, Ms. Gladstone, but I’ll remind you that
you’re still a person of interest in this case, so you may not leave town
without telling us first,” Johnson directed, a bit more kindly than he had
addressed her before.

“I
have to leave town to run my business, Detective,” Missy reminded him.

“That’s
fine, but no further than Dellville without prior permission,” he responded
curtly.

“I
understand.”

Not
only was Missy dismayed to find herself under scrutiny for the murder of a
long-time acquaintance, but she had to endure the speculation without the
support and help of the steadfast and dependable Chas Beckett. She knew that if
she could just talk to him, they’d be able to piece together what had happened
to poor Mrs. Nesbitt. Cora’s insufferable nephew Ian was her only living
relative, a ne’er do well who lived off of the remains of an inheritance
garnered when his parents were tragically drowned off the coast of Maine in a
boating accident. He had apparently taken up residence in his aunt’s sprawling
Victorian the moment her body had been removed from the premises. Police had
investigated the scene, and from the brief report that Chas had been able to
share when he came in under the guise of buying muffins for the guys on patrol,
some evidence had been gathered at the scene of the crime that could shed some
light on the case. Missy had asked Beckett how Cora had died, but he couldn’t
divulge the information because she was still under investigation.

To
pass the lonely time without Chas, Missy extended her hours at work, baking and
freezing hundreds of muffins, cupcakes and cookies to keep the cases stocked.
She took long strolls with Toffee, and attempted to lose herself in a good
novel or two, but found that she couldn’t concentrate for very long. She was
alone in the kitchen in Dellville one evening, when she heard a knock at the
back door. Wiping her hands on her apron, she opened it to find Echo Willis,
the new owner of the ice cream shop across the street. Clara Clements, the
former owner, of whom Missy had grown quite fond, had moved to Florida the past
week, leaving Echo to run the business on her own.

“Hi
Echo, how nice to see you again,” Missy said with a smile. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thanks,
I’d like that,” she replied. “I know it’s after hours, but I saw lights on over
here and thought I’d come make sure that everything was okay.”

“Well,
aren’t you sweet? Everything is fine. I just find myself with way too much time
on my hands these days, so I stay later and later preparing for business a week
in advance,” Missy shrugged, unaware of how sad she sounded.

“Well,
if you don’t mind having company, I have some spare time on my hands too,” Echo
admitted.

“Actually,
it would be great to have someone to talk to, I’m glad you came over. I just
pulled a batch of Crème Brulee cupcakes out of the oven if you’d like one,” she
offered.

“Oh,
about that,” Echo began, seeming embarrassed. “I’m vegan, and I have been my
entire life, so it’d probably make me really sick if I tried one. That’s why I
didn’t have a cupcake when I came over here the first time with Clara. I just
didn’t want to offend you.”

“Oh
my goodness, why didn’t you say so?” Missy asked. “I have at least one or two
vegan choices every day. In fact, when I went to a national cupcake competition
in Vegas, my prize cupcake entry was a Vegas Vegan.”

Echo
giggled at the name. “That’s awesome,” she grinned.

“I
love your outfit,” Missy remarked, taking in the brick-red harem pants, ivory
halter and wooden bangles that were scented lightly of patchouli.

“Thanks,
it’s very comfortable.”

The
two women chatted and laughed like old friends for a couple of hours while
Missy baked to her heart’s content, even whipping up a couple batches of vegan
strawberry-banana muffins so that her new friend could take some home for
breakfast. She felt the silence closing in on her after Echo left, and once she
had cleaned up the kitchen, scoured the floors and polished every available
surface, Missy turned out the lights to head for home. A glimmer of light
caught her eye as she did one final check of the seating area before she left,
and she went to the window to see what it was. In the darkness, the entire town
of Dellville seemingly slept, with not even a car passing by on the main
street, but there was a vehicle turning into the drive behind the ice cream
shop. She faintly saw shadowy figures entering and leaving the little shop, and
wondered what on earth could be happening over there after 9:00 at night, when
the rest of the town was tucked in tight. She watched for a bit, but couldn’t
see well enough to bother making a night of it, so she headed for her little
blue car and drove carefully home, where Toffee waited with sloppy doggy
kisses.

Missy
had just returned from a morning jog with Toffee, sweat beading on her brow in
the moist heat of a Louisiana late summer morning, when she heard her doorbell.
Putting down the mug of coffee that she had just poured, she went to see who it
was, surprised when she opened the door and saw Ian Barker, Cora Nesbitt’s
nephew on her front porch.

“Hello,
Ian,” Missy said coolly, never having been a fan of the hedonistic young man
who used his aunt shamelessly whenever he needed money, a place to stay, or a
reference for something.

“Mornin’
Miss Gladstone,” his voice oozed liquid Southern velvety charm. “How are you
this fine day?”

“Hot,
sweaty and in need of a shower,” she responded. “What can I do for you?”

Not
accustomed to being brushed off by women of any age, Ian was nonplussed.
“Actually, I came by to see if you’ll still be wanting Aunt Cora’s peaches for
your business…or pleasure,” his eyes slowly trailed up and down Missy’s
curvaceous figure, making her want to dash a glass of cold water in his face.

“Of
course I’ll still want the peaches,” she said sadly. “Just have them delivered
as usual,” she moved to shut the door, but he stopped it with the toe of his
expensive alligator shoe.

“I’m
sorry, I’m not familiar with Auntie Cora’s process, so it’ll be much easier if
you come by and get the peaches yourself,” he leered.

“I
really don’t think that’s a good idea, Ian, considering that the police are
investigating me in connection with her death,” Missy bit out, going for shock
value.

“That’s
utter nonsense,” he drawled, clearly not impressed. “There’s no way in the
world a little tiny thing like you could be involved in that nasty business.”

“Well,
at any rate, I think it’s best that I don’t visit her house any time soon,” she
insisted.

“Alright,
darlin’, I’ll get you set up with some deliveries, and I’ll be happy to come
collect the payment personally,” he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“I
mail it,” Missy stated firmly, shutting the door. She heard his obscene chuckle
on the other side and shuddered a bit. She had always had a bad feeling about
that man, and now he didn’t even have his maiden aunt around to keep him in
line. While she felt sorry for his loss, she seriously doubted that he even
realized how much his aunt had cared for him.

Missy
shook her head as she saw the new sign going up on the ice cream shop across
the street. Dellville was a pretty open-minded and friendly town that seemed to
roll with whatever changes the outside world brought in, but she wasn’t quite
sure just how well a vegan ice cream shop would fare. Echo had brought over the
new menu for the shop, which she was calling ‘Sweet Love,’ showing Missy the
wide variety of selections that she had to offer, none of which contained any
sort of animal products. There were ‘ice creams’ made from soy, almond milk,
rice milk and much more, in flavors that probably few people in Dellville had ever
heard of. Personally, Missy was very much looking forward to trying the Red
Chile Pepper Carob. Echo swore that a shop just like this had been a tremendous
hit in California, and Missy just hoped that she would be as successful here.
The grand opening would be going on tomorrow, and since Echo’s shop would be
busiest after Missy’s had already closed for the day, she was looking forward
to going over and supporting her new friend.

Missy
was going over a shopping list with Ben at the front counter, when she saw the
scraggly-looking man who had left a lemon cream cheese cupcake at Cora
Nesbitt’s house on the day of her murder. By the time Missy came around the
counter and ran out the front door, the man was halfway to the corner. When she
shouted to him, he looked over his shoulder and started running. She followed
him as closely as she could, not knowing what she would do if she ever caught
up to him, and wondering if he was leading her somewhere that would endanger
her. He ducked into an alley that was a little too private and a little too
dark for Missy’s common sense, and she called Detective Johnson to report the
encounter. The police arrived within minutes, but the strange man was already
gone, nowhere to be found. Missy gave the officers a description of what he was
wearing, and headed back to her shop, feeling alone and sad.

Sitting
alone on the couch yet again, watching Netflix, with Toffee curled up under the
coffee table, Missy missed Chas so much that it hurt. He’d called occasionally,
even though he technically wasn’t supposed to, but they confined their
conversation to small talk, so he wouldn’t be breaking the rules, and it just
ended up making her feel even more empty. She wanted to share with him, laugh
with him, snuggle into his embrace during a movie, but she had to be content
with just hearing his voice on occasion for now, and it was wearing her
patience thin.

Missy
was startled when suddenly Toffee raised her head and growled a warning,
looking toward the bay window in the dining room. She tapped the button on the
remote control to turn the sound of her movie down, and listened as the dog
continued to stare and growl into the darkness. Staying clear of the windows,
she moved stealthily into the dining room, peering out the bay window by standing
beside it so that she couldn’t be seen from the outside. The click of Toffee’s
claws on the restored hardwoods rang out like gunshots in the eerie stillness
of the house as the alert animal crept slowly toward the window, head lowered.
Missy strained hard to see, but couldn’t make anything out in the darkness.
Toffee sat directly in front of the bay window, staring and emitting a growl
low in her throat. Missy flipped the switch for the floodlights on that side of
the house, not knowing what to expect, and not disappointed when she still saw
nothing. She went back to the couch, and called Toffee over, stroking her silky
coat until she was soothed into returning to her place beneath the coffee
table.