Black Bottom Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery Book 6 (Frosted Love Mysteries) (4 page)

Missy
gave him the information that he had requested, and he snapped his notebook
shut, telling her not to leave town and that he’d be in touch.

The
police had given Missy clearance to go in and out of Crème de la Cupcake
whenever she needed to, but she made the decision that, while she might use the
location for overflow baking, she would keep the shop closed for business until
the murder was resolved. She had gone back to make sure that the dry goods were
stocked for baking, and that there was no perishable food in the fridge that
would spoil in her absence. She turned the lock and set the alarm on the back
door, heading down the alley, where she had parked. Thinking she heard a noise
behind her, she whirled around, heart pounding, seeing nothing. When she was
convinced that her imagination was spooking her, she turned around, making her
way to the car more quickly. She’d taken no more than three steps when
suddenly, something thudded painfully against her skull, dropping her,
unconscious, to the pavement.

Not
wanting to open her eyes, Missy was vaguely aware of feeling very cold. Her
head throbbed in a sickening manner, and color swirled behind her eyelids. She
heard a crunching and scraping sound, along with a few male voices. Their words
were unintelligible, and she faded back into unconsciousness as she felt four
pairs of strong hands grip and lift her slightly.

“Miss
Gladstone…? Melissa…? Can you hear me?” The voices seemed to come from so far
away. The ache in her head now had a raw, searing pain on top of it and her
stomach rolled as she tried to raise her impossible heavy eyelids. Blinking to
clear the blurriness, Missy slowly became aware of her surroundings, and tried
to sit up, frightened. The move was a mistake – she nearly passed out from the
pain. Her eyes closed of their own volition, and she struggled against the nausea.
“Miss Gladstone…?” the soft voice asked again.

Missy
tried to speak, but found her throat impossibly dry. She attempted to swallow,
and winced at the sensation. Beginning to panic Missy tried to brace herself
and sit up, only to fall back weakly.

“It’s
okay Miss Gladstone. Everything is alright,” the voice soothed. “You’re in the
hospital, you’ve had a bit of an accident, but we’re going to take good care of
you.”

She
felt a blood pressure cuff squeezing her upper arm, and a digital thermometer
rested briefly against her forehead. Once her vitals were recorded, the nurse
spoke again. “Would you like a sip of water?”

Missy
kept her eyes closed and nodded very carefully, not wanting to intensify the
pain throbbing in her skull. She felt the tip of a plastic straw placed between
her lips and sucked in the cool water with relief. The burning in her throat
eased a bit after a few swallows, and, keeping her eyes closed, she tried to
speak again, her voice hoarse.

“What
happened?” she whispered, not moving her head.

The
nurse hesitated so long in answering that Missy feared that she had left.
“Well, there’ll be someone here soon to speak with you about that,” she evaded.
“For now, you just rest and press this button if you need anything.” A
single-button plastic remoted control was pressed into her hand and the nurse
shuffled out. Exhausted by the simple acts of speaking and taking a drink of
water, Missy faded to black once more.

An
indeterminate time later, Missy felt a large hand envelope hers. “Missy…can you
hear me? Are you awake?” Detective Chas Beckett asked softly, his voice colored
with concern.

With
a brief flutter of her lashes, she opened her eyes, blinking to bring the world
into focus, and saw the handsome detective gazing down at her. “Chas…” she whispered,
her voice weak.

“Good
morning,” he smiled warmly, squeezing her hand. “How are you feeling?”

She
took a moment to self-assess before responding. Her head had stopped pounding,
the searing pain in her scalp had faded considerably, and her throat was dry,
but not unbearably so. “Better,” she smiled faintly.

“That’s
my girl,” he replied, kissing her forehead. “Water?” he asked, holding up a
large plastic mug featuring the medical center’s logo.

“Please.”
He held the straw to her lips and she drew in several long pulls of the
refreshing liquid, feeling the coolness all the way down into her stomach.
“What happened?” Missy asked, when she was finished, sounding more like herself.

Chas
set the cup down on a side table before responding. “You were…attacked on your
way to your car. Someone hit you with a blunt object from behind and knocked
you out. You weren’t found until Ben parked in the alley behind your shop the
next morning. You’ve been here ever since,” he explained grimly.

“Ever
since? How long has it been?” Missy wondered, alarmed.

“Three
days,” the detective replied, caressing the back of her hand.

“Three
days?? Am I okay? My head doesn’t hurt nearly as much,” her eyes were wide.

“The
doctors said that you had a pretty bad concussion, and a skull fracture. You
also have nearly a hundred stitches in your scalp where the skin split upon
impact.”

Missy
reached up to where the searing pain had been and touched the skin of her scalp
covered by three days growth of hair. There were tons of tiny prickles, that
felt like spider legs to her fingertips, which she guessed were the stitches.
Horrified at the violence that had been visited upon her, she took her hand
away, eyes filling with tears.

Chas
kissed her cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetie, it’ll be okay. This could’ve turned out
much worse,” he reassured her. “I don’t know what I would’ve…” he broke off his
sentence as the doctor came in to check on her. 

The
prognosis was good, and barring any complications, Missy was told that she
could go home in two days. While the doctor was examining the wound and letting
her know that he’d need another MRI before she left, Chas received a phone call
and stepped out of the room to take it. After the doctor left, Missy glanced
about the room that she had been in for three days, noticing for the first time
the floral arrangements, teddy bears, fruit baskets and balloons that filled
every available inch of counter space in the small room. She was touched that
so many people had been so thoughtful, and smiled through her tears at the
handsome detective when he re-entered the room.

“You
can’t know how good it is to see you smile,” he remarked, returning to her
side. “I have something that I have to attend to, but I’ll be back just as soon
as I can. Is there anything that you need?”

Eyeing
the nurse who had just entered the room, Missy crooked her finger, gesturing
for Beckett to draw near, so that she could whisper something to him. He
grinned at her request, saying, “I’ll see what I can do,” then headed out the
door after brushing his lips over hers in the softest of kisses.

“What
do we have?” Chas Beckett asked Detective Richard Keller of the Dellville PD.
Dellville was out of Chas’s jurisdiction, but Keller was a friend who knew how
much he cared about Melissa Gladstone.

“Looks
like your friend Missy, and the hippie chick that she hangs out with, are both
off the hook,” Rich replied, laying down a file folder.

“No
surprise there,” Beckett raised an eyebrow in an ‘I told you so’ manner. “So,
whodunit?” he quipped, relieved.

“As
it turns out, Sid Hixon had an employee, Roger Bowden, that he fired the day
before his death. Termination is a pretty powerful motive. The guy had only
worked for him for six months, and his coworkers say that he and the boss
didn’t get along from day one. Seems to be the most likely suspect,” Keller
tapped the folder on his desk.

“What
does the evidence say?” Chas probed.

“Nothing
yet, still waiting on the lab for a fingerprint match, type of poison in his
system, time of death, all that stuff.”

“Any
prior record on Bowden?”

“None
that we can find…yet,” Keller sounded determined.

“Okay,
so if the ex-employee killed Sid, what about the other victim – the homeless
youth?” Beckett frowned, trying to connect the dots.

“You’re
not going to believe this one…the kid was Bowden’s son. He was homeless because
the old man kicked him out after he graduated. Told him if he couldn’t pay his
own food and rent, he was on his own.”

“Sounds
like a swell guy,” Chas shook his head in disgust. “But there’s a huge leap
from kicking someone out to eliminating them entirely. What reason could he
possibly have to kill his own kid?”

“Who
knows? Embarrassed maybe. We’re checking it out,” Keller shrugged.

“Alibi?”

“We’ll
see. We’re bringing him in now. Hopefully he just confesses and saves us the
trouble of a full investigation.”

Chas
stood to go. “Good luck with that,” he said, extending his hand. Keller shook
it and he headed for the door, deep in thought. His extensive experience in law
enforcement had taught him that the right solution to any situation was rarely
an easy one. If something seemed too good to be true, it generally was. While
he wanted to believe that Roger Bowden was the murderer, leaving Missy and Echo
in the clear, Keller didn’t have any evidence to back up his suspicions. The
suspect hadn’t even been interviewed yet, meaning he could possibly have a
viable alibi, and Chas knew from experience that there had to be an extremely
powerful motive for someone to kill their offspring. While Bowden’s guilt was
certainly possible, there were still too many unanswered questions for Beckett
to reach any reliable conclusions. He’d continue his course of investigating
‘under the radar’ until he was shown evidence to substantiate Keller’s
suspicions.

Missy
was excited to learn that she would be released to go home in the morning, and
was sitting up in bed, thumbing through an interior decorating magazine, when
she heard a bit of a commotion in the hallway outside her door, followed by
Chas’s voice saying, “Official police business.” The door to her room opened,
and tears sprung to her eyes when she saw Chas come in, holding the leash of a
very excited Toffee.

“You
actually did it!” she exclaimed, surprised that he had taken her whispered
request seriously.

“Anything
to assist in the recovery process,” he grinned, leading the ecstatic golden to
her owner’s side. Toffee delicately placed her front paws on the side of the
bed, leaning in to give Missy a series of sloppy kisses, making her giggle with
glee. Once the dog had settled onto the bed between Missy’s knees, Chas brought
her up to speed on his conversation with Keller, cautioning her not to get her
hopes up.

“But…the
fact that they don’t suspect Echo or me any longer is a good thing right?” she
asked Chas, confused by his caution.

“Well,
yes and no,” he sighed. “It’s good that the focus has shifted away from you and
Echo, because you didn’t commit the crimes, but I fear that they may be looking
in the wrong direction for their suspect, and if their theory collapses into
nothing, we may find ourselves back at square one.”

Missy
frowned. “But if you don’t think that Roger Bowden did it, who did?”

“That’s
what I intend to find out,” he assured her. “But for now, I’m going to take
this furry friend back to my house for her dinner and a long walk. Call me when
they spring you?” he asked, snapping on Toffee’s leash and heading for the
door.

“Definitely,”
she nodded. “And, Chas,” she called after him.

“Yeah?”
he asked, turning quickly.

“Thanks,”
she smiled gratefully.

“Anytime,
fair maiden,” he winked and went out the door.

Now
that Missy’s Crème de la Cupcake, and Sweet Love, Echo’s shop, were both open
for business again, Missy had made a habit of starting her day in LaChance,
making all of her deliveries during the afternoon, closing up in Dellville, and
heading across the street to Echo’s at the end of the day for ‘ice cream’ and
conversation. It was nice to know that she could chat with her friend daily
again, particularly during those times when her spoiled little sister was out
doing other things, rather than honing in on their conversation and making
snide remarks. Missy had really grown to dislike the young woman, but was trying
her hardest to be understanding. In her experience, when someone was that nasty
to others, it was generally because they faced challenges in their own lives
that overwhelmed them, so she was typically able to draw largely from her
reserves of sympathy rather than feeling animosity, but Safflower really
‘pushed her buttons’ as her mother used to say.

It
had been a long day, and Missy could just taste the sweet creaminess of Echo’s
Vanilla Bean Rice Dream as she made her way across the street to Sweet Love. It
was difficult to keep the disappointment from her face when she walked in and
saw Safflower slumped ungracefully across two dining chairs, occupying an
entire table while she played games on her phone. Donna, Echo’s helper was
behind the counter, and greeted Missy with her usual charm when she came in.

“Hi
Ms. G.!” the girl sang out cheerfully. “The usual?” she asked, grabbing a metal
scoop.

“Yes,
please, Donna, and throw some caramel and coconut on top for good measure,”
Missy responded, her mouth watering. She was thankful that Toffee gave her a
vigorous workout twice a day, her ice cream habit might have an adverse effect
on her figure if she didn’t. The happy teenager handed her the delightful
sundae, refusing payment, as instructed by Echo, and told her that her friend
was in the back, inventing new recipes. Missy backed through the swinging doors
leading to the kitchen, her mouth full of vegan goodness, and went to find
Echo, dismayed to see that her sister had elected to follow.

“Hey
girl!” she called out, seeing Echo carefully measuring a red powder and sifting
it into a bowl.

“Missy!
I see you’ve run into Donna,” she teased, glancing at the decadent treat in her
friend’s hands.

“Every
day!” she returned, savoring another spoonful. “Y’all are gonna make me fat,”
she accused playfully.

“Only
if you let us,” was the friendly reply.

“What
are you up to? That looks interesting,” she observed, peering into the bowl.

Safflower
hoisted herself up onto the counter and snorted with derision. “I can’t believe
people actually eat that alfalfa granola crap.”

Echo
didn’t so much as pause in her activity to dignify her sister’s comment with a
response. “I’m trying a Carob and Cayenne combination, I’ll let you try it in a
few,” she said enthusiastically to Missy.

“Mmm…”
was her friend’s response through a mouthful of sundae, as she cast a reproving
glance in Safflower’s direction.

“Gross,”
was the rude girl’s observation as she picked at her nails, resting her feet on
the sterilized counter.

“Any
news on the investigation?” Echo asked, continuing to ignore the ridiculous
behavior.     

Missy
really didn’t want to talk about such a sensitive subject in front of “Sally
Sour Puss,” but she didn’t really have a choice, so she answered anyway. “It’s
not progressing very well, unfortunately. They questioned Bowden – he denied
everything, and his alibi actually looks pretty good, so I don’t know what’s
going to happen now,” she admitted, scooping up another bite.

“Deputy
Dawg and his posse nabbed the wrong bad guy? What a shock,” Safflower drawled
sarcastically.

Missy
had been simmering since she arrived, and the latest comment shot her way past
the boiling point. She set her bowl on the counter and turned to face Echo’s
insolent sister, hands on hips. “Little girl, I don’t know what’s stuck in your
craw, but I’m really beginning to wonder whether you ever have anything
pleasant to say. This conversation doesn’t concern you. What I say to your
sister isn’t any of your business, and if you don’t have something constructive
to say, you might want to consider keeping that rude mouth shut,” she snapped,
eyes flashing. 

Echo’s
hands flew to her mouth in surprise, her eyes darting back and forth between
her incensed friend and her belligerent sibling. Safflower slowly lowered
herself down from the counter and sashayed over to stand in front of Missy, thrusting
her nose an inch from her sister’s angry friends.

“You
don’t intimidate me, you hopeless hayseed,” she brazenly mocked Missy’s accent.
“Just get one thing straight here, Miss Hick, I say what I want, whenever I
want, to whoever I want, and I could care less what you think about it. Echo is
my sister, so you just need to get over your little Southern self, and get out
of my face,” she sneered.

Missy
heard Echo gasp at Safflower’s rudeness, and was surprised when she didn’t
correct her. Her eyes locked on Safflower’s, she didn’t give an inch as she
addressed Echo, still nose to nose. “Darlin, I love your company, but let’s you
and I talk when there are no petulant children around to listen.” She turned to
give Echo a pointed look after that, saying, “Let me know when you have some
time…and privacy.” With that, she relaxed her stance, ignoring the mocking
antics of Echo’s sister, picked up her bowl, put it in the sink, and left the
kitchen with one last scathing look at Safflower.

Missy
was shaking with anger when she walked back across the street to her car. There
had been very few times in her life when she’d had such a profoundly negative
emotional reaction to a fellow human being, and she had to wonder just what it
was about Safflower that stirred her up so much. Echo was such a loving,
easygoing person, it was difficult to imagine that the two girls had sprung
from the same gene pool. Missy suspected that the young woman was taking
advantage of her sister’s kindness and hospitality, but when it came right down
to it, that was none of her business. Sighing with frustration, she climbed
into the overly warm interior of her car and drove home with the windows open
for air, her soul and spirit relaxing as she put miles between herself and
Safflower Willis.