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

The morning session had gone well. Time slots had been scheduled for round one of the competition, and Missy would be baking the first of her original recipes.  She was going to begin the competition with a Vegan Coco-Loco recipe that was sure to be a hit.  It was a banana base that featured carob chips and a creamy coconut frosting.  The delectable treat was so rich and tasty, everyone she knew who had tried it, loved it immediately.  Her time slot was at 2:30 this afternoon, so she
’
d have a bit of time to prepare after lunch.

Missy was lost in thought, mentally preparing for her first baking challenge, when she was jarred yet again by the sing-song voice of Marta Cambridge.

“
Hey girl,
”
she trilled, startling Missy from her thoughts. 
“
I can
’
t wait to hear all about the treats that you
’
ll be presenting for us!
”
She looked fabulous in white trousers and sandals with an elegantly draped sage-green chemise.  Missy felt dowdy and overdressed in her businesslike sleeveless black wrap-dress.

“
Isn
’
t that a conflict of interest?
”
Missy smiled faintly, dreading the prospect of having to sit across the table being artificially pleasant to this woman from her past. She wondered what Marta was up to this time; it wasn
’
t like her to seek Missy out for social pleasantries.

“
Well, I won
’
t tell if you won
’
t,
”
she winked and herded Missy toward the exit by the elbow. The sense of dread and the intuition that Marta was up to no good was growing stronger by the moment, and she doubted whether she
’
d even be able to eat.

There was a long black limo waiting at the curb, and the uniformed driver opened the doors in the middle when he saw the women approaching.

“
Where are we going?
”
Missy asked, more from a need to fill what would have otherwise been an awkward silence than because she actually cared where they were going to have lunch.

“
Top of the World,
”
Marta said grandly.
“
You
’
ll love it.
”

Missy thought that her nemesis was just being grandiose, but the name of the restaurant actually was the
“
Top of the World,
”
and had fantastic views of the city. The cuisine, under normal circumstances would have been more than pleasant, but at the moment, the artfully arranged dishes had the flavor and consistency of sawdust for Missy, who was very much looking forward to getting back to the hotel as soon as possible.

“
So what
’
s your first entry?
”
Marta asked, shaking a couple of tablets from what looked like a prescription bottle and popping them into her mouth.

“
Vegan Coco-Loco,
”
was the short reply. Missy gave the briefest of descriptions, a part of her still not trusting the bakery franchise owner sitting across from her.

“
That sounds positively amazing!
”
she raved.
“
With originality like that, you
’
re sure to make it into the next round.
”

“
Are you judging this round?
”
Missy asked, pushing a perfectly-done scallop around listlessly on her plate.

“
Heavens no, honey, they don
’
t bring in the big guns until the final round,
”
she laughed, shaking her head.

Missy sighed inwardly, wondering just how much of Marta
’
s patronizing attitude she could take before she snapped. 
“
Well, that
’
s good.  Too much tasting can
’
t be good for the waistline,
”
she smiled sweetly, looking pointedly at the TV icon
’
s taut, flat abdomen.

A mild look of annoyance crossed over Marta
’
s patrician features before she thought to cover it. She completely ignored the jibe and leaned forward, beckoning Missy to do the same.  Against her better judgment, she leaned forward so that Marta could say whatever she needed to say that was clearly confidential.

Her voice low, she said,
“
I need to talk with you about something very important.  I
’
ve been hearing great things about your little business in LaChance, and I want to propose an opportunity that will finally give you the success that you deserve.
”

Missy interrupted to protest.
“
I
’
m actually quite happy with my success.  I
’
m looking to expand soon,
”
she asserted, defensive but pleasant.

“
Honey, that
’
s fabulous! I have just the solution that you need,
”
she enthused, causing Missy to regard her with even more suspicion.
“
You
’
re going to love this. I am personally willing to help you become a part of the Cambridge Cupcakery family.  We
’
ll turn your little muffin store into a booming business and you
’
ll be set for life,
”
she finished proudly, as though the matter were settled.

Missy
’
s blood boiled at the thought of selling out her unique muffin boutique to a corporate machine that mass-produced hockey pucks of flavor for the non-discerning palate. She put down her fork carefully and took a sip of her lemon water in order to buy enough time to control her rising ire so that her voice wouldn
’
t shake when she responded.

“
Well, thank you for thinking of me,
”
she began carefully, not wanting to alienate a celebrity judge. 
“
But I
’
m going to have to decline your kind offer.  I already have plans for expansion, and I
’
d really like to maintain the independent feel of my shop.
” 
She tried to summon a smile, but unable to produce one, she settled for a deeply sincere expression of utmost resolve.

Marta raised her expertly waxed eyebrows in surprise laced with contempt. 
“
I believe you misunderstand me, Melissa. Let me ask you something
…
just how important is this competition to you? Because I’d really hate to see you lose in the elimination round.
”
Her threat was subtle, but unmistakable. 
“
There are two kinds of people in this world, Missy Gladstone
…
there are those who make the most of the opportunities offered to them, and those who unwisely turn up their noses, much to the detriment of future endeavors.  Didn
’
t you ever stop to wonder how a little muffin peddler from LaChance got invited to this type of event? You wouldn
’
t even be here if I, out of the goodness of my heart, hadn
’
t wangled an invite for you. Think about it,
”
her voice was clipped, her southern drawl profound. Taking her ostrich leather wallet out of her expensive designer bag, she withdrew two one hundred dollar bills and laid them on the table, making Missy wonder how much their simple yet elegant lunch had cost. Marta stood to go, clearly leaving her to her own devices for returning to the hotel.
“
You
’
re a smart girl, Missy
–
choose wisely. I
’
ll check back with you tomorrow morning.
”

Missy was aghast.  She couldn
’
t believe that Marta Cambridge had just threatened to have her eliminated from the competition if she didn
’
t agree to make Missy
’
s Muffins and More a part of the Cambridge Cupcakery franchise.  Her heart pounded with indignation and she felt sick to her stomach as she sat staring at the linen tablecloth in disbelief.  A server came by to refill her lemon water and she requested a cab, still stunned by Marta
’
s thinly veiled threat.  She arrived back at the hotel with just enough time to try to collect her thoughts before round one of the competition. Walking into the test kitchen, Missy tried to control her shaking and wondered if she should even bother preparing anything.

She was thankful that she didn
’
t cross paths with that horrible woman prior to preparing her first entry, and was soon lost in the comforting, familiar world of sifting, measuring, stirring and baking.

Melissa Gladstone was poetry in motion when she went about the business of preparing her world-class cupcakes.  Her movements were precise and efficient and she executed her special recipe with natural grace, producing cakes that were fluffy, moist and topped with creamy lusciousness.  She tasted the still-warm Vegan Coco-Loco, and the perfect blend of flavors melted in her mouth.  Under the unfortunate circumstances presented by her nemesis, the expert baker was only able to stomach a single bite, loving the taste, but fighting nerve-induced indigestion.  The treats were spectacular
–
undoubtedly the best rendering of this particular recipe that she
’
d ever produced, and yet she was gripped by the lurching fear that she was doomed regardless of quality and content.  Time would tell. She shrugged her shoulders bravely, took a deep breath and carried her beautifully staged tray to the panel of judges for evaluation. She wouldn
’
t know the results of the competition until tomorrow, when the participants faced the judges for feedback. In the meantime, she would try her best to relax, perhaps with the help of a glass of wine from the hotel bar.

Despite having encountered Marta there the day before, Missy longed to make the most of the opportunity to catch some sun by the pool.  She figured she
’
d have enough camouflage to hide behind if she brought along a book and her cell phone.  She wanted to call Detective Beckett to check in on Toffee anyway, so if she saw the uber-famous baking maven approaching, she
’
d get on the phone so as not to be disturbed. Glancing somewhat furtively about, Missy walked into the pool area, bypassing the bar in favor of an ice-cold water bottle.  The way her nerves were currently jangled, she had decided to opt for hydration rather than sedation.  She chose a lounger that was close to the pool, but far enough away that she wouldn
’
t get splashed by exuberant guests. Trying to read, she eventually snapped her book shut in frustration, entirely unable to concentrate.  Her encounter with Marta Cambridge circled round and round in her brain, causing her stomach to churn and her head to ache.  She knew that having a conversation about her beloved Toffee would allow her to forget, at least momentarily, about franchises and contests and unjust threats from her hometown rival.

“
Hi Chas,
”
Missy said somewhat shyly, still a bit intimidated by the handsome and incredibly intelligent Detective Beckett.
“
How
’
s my girl?
”
she asked, smiling at the thought of her sweet and gentle golden retriever. Chas regaled her with stories of walking in the park, playing fetch with a favorite toy, and a misguided attempt to teach the refined lady how to catch a Frisbee.  He admitted, rather sheepishly, that he allowed her to sit beside him on the couch for evening TV, and that he had put her bed in the corner of his room so that she wouldn
’
t be lonely in Missy
’
s absence.  Tears filled Missy
’
s eyes, partly because she missed her furry friend, and partly because she longed for the normalcy of life that Chas had just described.  She made it a rule to try to stay away from drama and unpleasant circumstances, and now she found herself squarely mired in the muck of both. Chas seemed to sense that something was up.

“
Hey, is everything okay out there?
”
he asked, the concern in his voice causing the tears that had been brimming to spill down Missy
’
s cheeks.

“
Not exactly,
”
she replied truthfully, too upset for pretense.  She related what had happened between herself and Marta, with Chas making appropriately sympathetic responses.  He had no answers as to how to handle the situation, but she felt better having discussed it with him anyway.  They chatted briefly about the competition, and Chas assured her that when he had stopped by her store, Ben seemed to have things well in hand.  She didn
’
t want to hang up the phone, finding strength in the simple joy of conversation about normal and familiar things, but she knew that Detective Beckett was a busy man, and she didn
’
t want to keep him too long, so they hung up a short while later.  When the connection was broken, Missy felt empty and alone, so after taking a few sips from her water bottle, she adjusted the back of her lounger so that it was nearly flat and reclined, closing her eyes against the brilliant Nevada sun.  After toasting her front for a while, she rolled over and let the warmth of the sun bake into her back, finally relaxing a bit, despite the emotional havoc wreaked upon her earlier. She dozed a bit, then was surprised to realize that she was actually hungry, and looking at her phone, realized that it was nearly 7:00.  Completely unwilling to deal with conversation and reality, she decided to go to her room and order room service. She
’
d have a quiet evening to herself, with only the pay-per-view channel for company.

Deciding to splurge, and knowing that she would only be able to eat if she ordered something exceptional, she opted for surf and turf
–
a petite filet steak topped with saut
é
ed Portobello mushrooms, and tender sweet lobster tail with drawn butter.  The hotel kitchen told her that her food would take about 45 minutes to arrive, so she took a long, hot shower and changed into her comfy yoga pants and a loose fitting t-shirt while she waited. She tipped the waiter generously, and had him set up her tray, along with a carafe of wine on the coffee table in front of the TV. She had a long list of chick flicks selected to keep her company until she fell asleep, and was looking forward to a very mellow evening.  She tried her hardest not to think about Marta, but occasionally her mind wandered into thinking about what she was going to say to her in the morning.  She finished her meal, managing to enjoy only a few bites of each item before covering her plate with the metal heat keeper that had been provided, and set the tray outside her door for pick-up.  Tucking her legs under her, she concentrated on losing herself in the first of the many sappy love stories that she had chosen, and nodded off with just a few minutes left in the first movie.