She was thankful that Spencer had covered for her at the cupcake shop, the Marine had done everything perfectly, from taking orders, to cleaning, to closing. Tomorrow, she planned to go with Echo to shop for a holiday dress to wear to the party and Kel’s gala – she was envisioning something sparkly, bright and dramatic, and was looking forward to girl time – but for now, it was time to relax and unwind.
Toffee, her beloved Golden Retriever, and Bitsy, Toffee’s Malti-Poo canine sidekick had wandered into the bathroom with her and were curled up in a corner near the vanity, enjoying the jazz playing on the docked IPod. Golden curls piled atop her head, Missy eased into the water up to her neck, sighing with pleasure. Her muscles relaxed and she closed her eyes. Time trickled by, and she might’ve fallen asleep if it hadn’t been for the low growls coming from the dogs some time later, just as her water began to cool.
Missy opened her eyes and saw both dogs standing, hackles raised, looking toward the window. The master bathroom was on the second floor, so Missy had no idea as to what they could possibly see or hear, but she stepped out of the tub and slipped into her terrycloth robe to take a look. She peeked out of the blinds, seeing nothing. Staring into the darkness, unable to detect any movement or strange shadows, she attributed their response to an overreaction to normal night sounds, like the wind riffling through palm fronds and palmettos.
She was already in bed when Chas came in, about an hour or so after her bath.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yup, just fine,” her husband kissed her on both cheeks and then on the lips. “How was your bath? You smell great,” he smiled appreciatively.
“Thanks. Lavender bath beads,” Missy explained. “Hey, when you were walking to and from Spencer’s apartment, did you see or hear anything…weird?”
Frowning, the detective shook his head. “No, but you’ve definitely captured my attention. Did something happen?”
“I don’t know. Probably not,” she yawned hugely and plumped her pillow up under her head. “Toffee and Bitsy were just staring out the window and growling. It was probably just the wind that had them spooked or something,” she murmured, on the verge of sleep.
“Do you want me to go have a look at the grounds, just to ease your mind?” Chas offered.
“Nope, I’m fine,” Missy assured him, unable to keep her eyes open any longer.
Chapter 12
“Mrs. Beckett, you need to come down to the shop as soon as possible,” Spencer told Missy over the phone, early the next morning.
“Okay, I’m on my way,” she said, slipping her feet into her soft, worn boat shoes and topping off the coffee in her to-go mug. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, ma’am.”
“Good, I’ll see you in a minute,” she promised, hanging up and shoving her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.
Spencer was waiting for her in front of the shop.
“I don’t know how it happened, but when I got here to meet the delivery truck this morning, I found this,” he said, opening the front door.
Missy gasped, tears springing to her eyes. Her shop had been ransacked. Shards of broken dishes littered the floor, trays of silverware had been dumped and sugar bowls emptied. Every bit of furniture was strewn about, and everything had been knocked off of the shelves behind the counter. The horrified owner shook her head in disbelief as she surveyed the mess.
“The kitchen is worse than this,” Spencer said quietly, standing beside her.
“How can it be worse?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her midsection, feeling violated and scared.
Spencer moved toward the kitchen and Missy trailed after him, not wanting to see what had been done.
“It is worse,” she whispered, bringing her hands to her mouth. Every ingredient had been spilled, poured out and scattered in the normally spotless stainless steel kitchen, even chilled and frozen foods from the large walk-in refrigerator and freezer. Cartons of eggs had been tossed across the room, giant vats of butter had been scooped out and left to melt in lemon-yellow blobs on the countertop, and gallons of milk had been emptied into the sink. Bags containing dry ingredients had been slashed open, their contents spilling out onto the shelves and floor, even the peanut butter jars had been emptied, their contents smeared on the wall by the sinks.
“Why on earth would someone do this? It’s senseless and cruel,” Missy stared at the mess in disbelief.
“I thought at first that it might have been to cover up a robbery, but when I looked in your office, every drawer had been dumped, every cabinet emptied, but the safe was completely untouched. It doesn’t look like anything at all was taken,” Spencer informed her.
“Then why? Why would anyone do this?”
“Is there anyone who might want to hurt you?” the Marine asked, his jaw muscle flexing.
“No. Not her. Me,” Chas spoke from behind them, standing in the doorway of the office. His eyes met Spencer’s and a look passed between them that Missy couldn’t fathom.
“You know who did this?” she asked, looking from one to the other.
“I have some leads to follow up on, but I have a pretty good idea. Don’t touch anything, I’m going to have my guys come out and see what they can find,” the detective instructed.
“Got something,” Spencer said, kneeling down and pointing to an upended metal drawer.
“What is it?” Missy asked, not wanting to look.
“Blood,” Chas said. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“How am I going to prepare the orders for my holiday customers?” she worried.
“I had the supply delivery stashed in the kitchen at the Inn when I saw this mess. Whatever you need that you don’t have, I’ll go to the wholesale store and get for you,” Spencer assured her. “Echo and I can help with the baking, and Maggie can help us box things up. We can handle this and your customers will never know the difference.”
“Thank you,” Missy nodded, overwhelmed.
“Spencer, take my wife back to the Inn so that you two can start planning for those orders. I’ll take over here,” Chas directed, reaching for his phone.
“Yes sir,” the Marine replied, leading Missy from the horrible mess that her sweet little shop had become.
On the way back to the Inn, they cut through the parking lot, headed for the back door, and Missy pulled up short.
“Ma’am?” Spencer said, wondering what was wrong.
“Spence, does my trunk look like it’s ajar?” she asked woodenly.
“Stay here, Mrs. Beckett. I’ll check it out.”
The Marine sidled up to the car slowly, and, using a stick that he picked up along the way, he pushed up on the trunk, not surprised in the least when it opened easily. The trunk was empty, but it too had been ransacked. The cover over the spare tire had been removed, and the carpet pulled away from every inch of the cargo space’s interior.
Moving around to look in the windows, Spencer also found the driver’s door ajar, the alarm disabled, and the contents of the glove compartment and center console strewn about.
“Spencer…what is going on around here?” Missy asked fearfully, standing several feet away from her car.
“This isn’t random, ma’am,” he replied grimly. “Someone is looking for something.”
Chapter 13
“But what could you possibly have that would cause someone to tear your entire shop and your car apart?” Echo asked, adding flour to her mixing bowl in the Inn’s spacious kitchen.
“I have no idea. I’m still shaking just thinking about it,” Missy replied with a shudder.
“Betsy warned me,” Kel lamented, perched on a barstool, wearing a red and white striped apron.
“Who the heck is Betsy, and what did she warn you about?” Echo stopped stirring.
“Let’s just say she’s a “source.” She warned me not to look too closely at Cal Cramer, because he’s known to be ruthless.”
“Surely, someone with as much money
and influence as Cal Cramer wouldn’t stoop to trashing my business and car,” Missy was skeptical. “Particularly if it was just because you were snooping around.”
“Don’t you think that clever husband of yours has interviewed him by now?” Kel raised an eyebrow. “As the lone survivor in the group of philandering dolts, he’d be the first person that I’d talk to.”
“So he was trying to get back at Chas by scaring me?”
“What better way to hurt the husband than by tormenting the one who is most precious to him?” the artist shrugged.
“By that logic, someone else could’ve killed Marcia and Melany just to torture Cal,” Echo pointed out.
Kel and Missy stared at her, as she went back to stirring her cupcake batter, and then looked at each other.
“I never even thought of that,” Missy whispered.
“I’m on it,” Kel said, hopping down from the stool and pulling off his apron.
“On what?” Echo was befuddled. “What did I miss?”
“It was your idea, silly!” Missy exclaimed. “All this time we’ve been looking for proof that Cal killed everyone, even though it wouldn’t really make sense for him to kill his wife and his mistress. What we really should have been looking for…maybe…was someone who held a grudge so big against Cal Cramer, that they were willing to kill just to hurt him. Think about it…someone murdered his wife and his girlfriend. If they were trying to get his attention and lash out, what better way to do it?”
“Right,” Echo breathed, nodding slowly. “Wow, guess that makes me the clever one this time around, huh?” she teased.
“Maybe. But, now that we’ve figured out the why, we have to discover the who,” Missy sighed. “And I still don’t have any idea who trashed my shop, or why.”
The two women worked well into the dinner hour, completing the cupcake orders and helping Spencer load them into the shuttle for delivery. Once the Marine was on his way to the first customer’s location, Maggie made Echo and Missy sit down at the kitchen table while she made them a nice, hot dinner. Chas had called to say that he wouldn’t be back until later, so they ate together quietly, both worn out by the stress-filled and busy day.
**
Kel took a gamble that he might just run into Rosemary Gambrioli, an administrative assistant in Cal Cramer’s office, at one of her favorite lunch spots, Fusion Sushi, and his intuition paid off.
“Fancy meeting you here, pretty lady,” he greeted his former lover with a kiss on the cheek.
The fit and stylish fifty year old was tastefully dressed in winter white slacks and a pink sweater set, with pearls adorning her ears and neck and her chestnut hair perfectly coiffed. Whenever the artist saw his former flame, he found himself wishing that the polished outer shell didn’t house such a twisted core. When things were good with Rosemary, they were oh-so-good, but when things were bad…
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she drawled pleasantly. “Join me?”
“I’d love a dose of your scintillating company while I consume my portion of prettified bait,” Kel agreed, seating himself across from her.
“A simple yes would have sufficed,” Rosemary rolled her eyes. “Some things never change.”
“Indeed. You look as lovely as ever,” he raised the water glass that the server had set down in front of him in a mock toast.
“Buttering me up already? You must need something,” she observed shrewdly. “What is it this time, Phillip? What secrets of the universe are you harboring, and why on earth are you going to involve me in whatever scheme you’re cooking up?”
“My dearest, is it so hard to believe that I’m simply delighted to see the one with whom I’ve spent so many pleasant hours of my life?” Kel raised his eyebrows, acting shocked.
“After you threw me out of your house and haven’t so much as called or texted in nearly a year? Yeah, I have to say, I find this whole encounter a bit suspicious,” she tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the table top. The server came and took their orders, saving the artist from having to answer right away.
Kel sighed. One of the things that had both pleased and annoyed him about Rosemary was that she had the uncanny ability to see right through him. When she had used that super power for the forces of good, life had been divine, but all too often she used her gift of insight to manipulate and destroy pieces of his soul, which was ultimately why he’d decided to keep his distance.
“Okay, you got me. I think there may be something sordid afoot, and I need some information from you,” he decided to go with honesty in the interest of time. His friend could be in danger and he wanted the bad guy safely tucked away in a cell somewhere post-haste.
“Well, what do you know…he can be forthright sometimes,” Rosemary observed cattily. “Just not in relationships unfortunately.”
Kel bit back a reply as the server approached with their lunches. Tearing off the end of the paper, he opened his chopsticks and popped a piece of spicy dynamite roll into his mouth, chewing slowly to buy himself some time.
“Well, I can see that this was a misguided idea at best,” he sighed. “I’ll finish my food and be on my way. I don’t want to burden you with my presence for any longer than necessary,” he attacked another slice of the roll.
“Oh slow down and save the drama, Sally,” she mocked lightly. “I suppose I can at least listen to whatever shenanigans you have in mind before rejecting you outright. It might even be entertaining,” she blinked sweetly.
He considered leaving the rest of his sushi on the plate and just bolting, but time was of the essence in getting this mystery solved, which meant enduring Rosemary’s barbs for just a bit longer. When he finally got down to asking the questions that he needed to ask, she was quite forthcoming. It frustrated him to no end that she answered all of his questions truthfully and without reservation, yet when he left, he had fewer answers than when he began.
Cal Cramer might be an arrogant sociopath, but Rosemary had seen every transaction that crossed his desk, and his behavior in business had done nothing to prompt a profound reaction like murder. According to his administrative assistant, who was definitely in the position to know, his clients were happy, as were his business partners and his associates. Cal Cramer made a whole lot of money, but apparently, he didn’t make too many enemies in the process. Even rivals appreciated his negotiating skills and determination.
Chapter 14
Frustrated, the artist went back to his gallery. He’d be on his own today, since his Gallery Manager was helping Missy bake cupcakes. Kel used his code to get in the front door and immediately sensed that something was wrong, before he even flipped the light switch in the entry way. The sight that met his eyes caused him to sink to his knees in horror.
“No,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with unshed tears. “No, this can’t be real…”
In the clean, geometric spaces of the gallery which he’d worked so hard to make a reality, lay the broken bits and pieces of every sculpture that had been on display. Every painting and sketch that had adorned the walls was hacked into pieces and strewn on the floor. Years of creativity, hard work and grim determination had been destroyed in the time that it had taken to consume a sushi roll and drive across town.
Kel was utterly devastated. He dragged his fingertips through the dust of a pulverized sculpture, tears in his eyes. All of his hopes, his dreams, his livelihood…shattered.
“Why?” he whispered. He raised his dust covered hands in front of his face unable to take his gaze from the powdered destruction. Trembling he shouted at the top of his voice, “Whyyy???” that solitary word reverberating on the spotless white walls and polished steel beams.
**
Carla Mayhew was tired, sweaty and cranky and she hadn’t had a drink in several days, a fact that made her proud, but certainly not sweet-tempered. Her client today had been exceedingly annoying, and the movers that she’d hired for furniture placement were so entirely incompetent that she’d literally ended up
kicking off her high heels and moving sofas, tables and chairs. The underarms of her designer blouse were dark with perspiration, her hair sprouted from her head in frizzy tendrils that would not be tamed, and any trace of makeup that she’d so artfully applied after her shower this morning, had melted from her face.
She hit the button to open her garage door, and of course, it refused to budge. That was the kind of day she’d been having. It seemed as though everyone and everything was doing its best to try to drive her to drink. Gritting her teeth, she parked in front of the door, got out, and entered her code into the electronic key pad. No response, of course.
She turned off the car, opened the back passenger door to grab her “tool” bag, in which she kept the implements of her trade – tape measure, paint chip samples, camera, laser level, and a basic tool kit, plus a mini-drill – tossing it over one shoulder and pulling a muscle in her neck. Wanting to scream with frustration, she reached into a small zipper pocket in her purse to grab her spare house key. Finally opening the front door, she dropped her bag in the foyer and gasped when she saw the state of her tastefully decorated home.
Everything was destroyed. Furniture was slashed and turned upside down, with the guts of chairs, sofas and pillows torn and strewn about. Vases and sculptures were broken to bits, and artwork was torn from the walls. Fearing that whoever had done the horrible deed might still be in the house, Carla ran outside without checking the other rooms, slamming the door behind her. She dialed 911 as she dove into her car and screeched the tires leaving her driveway.
**
Echo was bone-tired as she walked from the bus stop toward her little bungalow. She had just come within sight of the modest home in her up and coming neighborhood, when she saw her obnoxious neighbor, Steve, barreling toward her like a raging bull. Sighing inwardly, she braced herself for more of the awkward leering that oozed out of the man like toxic slime.
Peppermint Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 22 (A Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 4