Cupcakes and Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery (Book 5) (Frosted Love Mysteries)

by Carol Durand

  “What can I do?” she asked, determined. “I feel so helpless, and it makes me mad!”

  Chas smiled at her affectionately. “Well, while I completely understand your frustration, the best thing you can do to help our cause at the moment is to lay low and let me see what I can uncover. Hey, did you order any dinner for me?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “No, I didn’t know when…or if…you’d be back, but I’ll call in and get you something now,” Missy offered.

  “That sounds great. I’ll have a bite to eat, followed by one of your delicious cupcakes, and we’ll go for a walk on the beach, how does that sound?”

  “Perfect,” Missy smiled, looking forward to his company and a quiet evening. His report had made her feel much better, but she was careful not to get her hopes up too high. They managed to slip out for a quiet walk on the beach, enjoying the moonlight and warm water without having to endure the cold gazes of the staff. As much as she loved the beauty, sights, sounds, tastes and wonderful weather, Missy was ready to get home and back to business.

  Chas dropped Missy off at her room shortly after 10:00, letting her know to knock on his door when she was ready for breakfast the next morning. She sank down onto her pillowy bed, exhausted, but at least a bit more relaxed than she had been. Something about being in Chas’s company had a soothing effect on her. He always seemed to know exactly what to say and do to make her feel better. She drew a bath in the large jetted tub, and turned the built in radio to a smooth jazz station. Sinking into the water, letting the bubbles ease the tension from her body, she sighed with relief, and leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

  She started getting sleepy after about half and hour and hit the button to turn the jets off, pulling the plug to let the water out. She jumped in surprise while she was toweling off, hearing a thud outside the bathroom door. She froze in place, listening, grateful that she had locked the door behind herself, despite the fact that she was the room’s only occupant. The thud she had heard first, was followed in rapid succession by a series of softer thunks against the door and walls of the room. Having no clue as to the source of the strange sounds, she finished drying herself off, taking care to make no noises whatsoever, despite the fact that the tub was gurgling as it emptied, and soft jazz still spewed gently from the speakers in the bathroom.

  Setting the towel carefully on the counter, she put on her light summer pajamas and tiptoed silently to the door. Nearly jumping out of her skin, she put a finger in her mouth and bit down on it to keep from screaming when the doorknob started moving back and forth like someone was trying to get in. When whoever it was figured out that the door was locked, there was a slam on the door that sounded like an open palm had slapped it in frustration, causing Missy to jump away in alarm. Heart pounding in her chest and tears filling her eyes, she tried to control her breathing, listening for whatever the stranger outside her door might do next. She heard a sound that she couldn’t identify, and then silence. Cursing herself for not bringing her cell phone into the bathroom with her, Missy slid to the floor, with her back against the wall furthest from the door and hugged her knees, listening.

  Missy had no idea how long she sat, straining to hear any sort of sound before she finally worked up the courage to open the bathroom door a crack to see if it was safe to come out. First, she peered under the door, looking for feet or shadows in the dimly lit room beyond, and seeing none, she silently turned the tab that unlocked the door. She listened after unlocking the door, her heart in her throat, but heard nothing. Slowly turning the doorknob and wincing when it creaked, she pulled the door inward slightly, putting her eye to the sliver of space that she had opened, seeing nothing. Taking a deep breath and deciding that, for better or worse, she had to come out and face whoever might be lurking in her room, she flung the door open the rest of the way, her eyes darting back and forth.

  Whoever had tried to open the bathroom door was gone, but they had left a path of destruction in their wake. The Margarita Madness cupcakes that she made had been thrown, with apparently high velocity, against the bathroom door and the walls surrounding it. The few items of clothing that Chas had purchased were thrown about, and a package of flour from the kitchen had been opened and flung all over the room. Missy’s purse had been emptied in the middle of the floor, but it looked as though nothing had been taken. She found her cell phone unharmed, tucked safely into the side of the couch where it had slipped out of her pocket earlier in the afternoon, and called Chas, explaining breathlessly what had just happened. The concerned detective told her not to touch anything, and that he’d be right over. He instructed her to open the front door with a towel, touching the knob as little as possible. Once inside, he led Missy back to his room, leaving her door open a crack so that he could get back in without touching it.

  He took her by the shoulders, demanding her attention so that she wouldn’t allow the silent tears that were falling to turn into hysteria. “Listen to me, Missy, you’re going to be okay. Go wash your face, have a drink from the mini bar and crawl into bed. I’ll take care of what happened to your room,” he assured her.

  “But, Chas, shouldn’t we call the police?” she asked, her voice tremulous.

  “Normally we would, yes, but in this situation, no. Gonzales and his crew would just see it as a smokescreen and think you were trying to play the victim in order to gain sympathy. I called my contact at the embassy before I came over to get you. He has a forensics guy who’ll be here any second to take fingerprints, gather any evidence that he can and see if he can figure out what happened and why. I’ll be right there with him, and my cell phone will be in my pocket. You’re perfectly safe here, but if you need anything, all you have to do is call, okay?” he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

  “Okay,” she nodded, still looking worried, but knowing that she really had no choice. Chas kissed her, closed his door softly behind her, and returned to the scene of the crime, pleased to see that his embassy contact and the forensics specialist had arrived. They had even brought cleaning supplies with them so that they could take care of the mess after they had gathered all possible evidence. Chas sighed – it was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 9

  Missy had thought that with the copious amount of adrenalin that she had coursing through her, surely she’d never get to sleep, but eventually she did drift off into a fitful, broken slumber, waking easily when Chas returned to the room just as the sun was beginning to brighten the sky.

  “Did you find anything?” she asked, sitting up and pulling the covers closely around her.

  Beckett nodded, looking exhausted. “Whoever vandalized your room certainly wasn’t a professional. They left several sets of fingerprints, hairs, clothing fibers and footprints. This could be the first major break in this case. If we can somehow tie whoever did this to the murders of Raoul and the housekeeper, you and I could be going home fairly soon.” He sat next to Missy on the bed, dark circles under his eyes.

  “Really? Like how soon?”

  “Well, don’t get your hopes up just yet, we still have to run the prints and hope that they’re a match for someone that’s in a database. That may not be as easy as it sounds. The guys at the embassy know what they’re doing and they have access to some of the most comprehensive databases in the world, so we’re in good hands. Time and results will tell whether this is our lucky break,” he explained, rubbing a hand over his eyes after he finished.

  “So the room is back to normal now?”

  “Looks like nothing ever happened,” he smiled.

  “Thank you, Chas.”

  “Anytime,” he squeezed her hand.

  “You must be so tired,” she observed, touching his cheek softly.

  “I could use a nap,” he admitted, yawning.

  “Well, I’m going to go back to my room if it’s safe, get dressed and order breakfast. You can just come get me when you wake up,” she pulled the covers back and headed for the door. Chas simply nodde
d and, kicking off his shoes, flopped into bed.

  Chapter 10

  Missy chuckled when she saw the first text of the morning from Cheryl.

  “Hi Ms. G.! I just wanted to let you know that Grayson has a really good idea for an Autumn treat that would be fun in October. It’s a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting, but he was saying that if we did some cool things with like, slices of gum drop and a raspberry glaze, we could make them look like bloodshot eyeballs. So we tried it and they came out so awesome! But I wanted to warn you that one of the church knitting club ladies said that it was distasteful, so you might hear about that later, sorry. L So anyways, we sold out of eyeballs yesterday – they were a hit! Hope you’re not mad. C.”

  Missy was incredibly relieved to see that her staff was bonding, business was booming, and no major problems had arisen in her absence. In that regard, at least, life was good. Now if Chas and his contact at the embassy could just figure out who trashed her room and killed Raoul and the housekeeper, she’d be able to breathe again.

  She immersed herself for the next few hours in a TV series on Netflix that was political enough that she had to pay attention in order to keep up, which turned out to be a perfect distraction from her current circumstances. She looked at her watch when someone knocked on her door, surprised that the time had flown by. She hadn’t even had lunch yet, and her stomach growled, letting her know about it.

  “We may have a break in the case,” Chas announced when she opened the door, brushing by her and heading for the couch.

  “Really?” Missy exclaimed, restraining her excitement a bit. “Was it from the fingerprints that you took, or the autopsy results, or something else?”

  “None of the above, actually. I told you that Rinaldo, from the embassy, had a contact inside the police department. His contact questioned one of the housekeepers here and found out that Raoul may have been about to be promoted to management.”

  “Umm…okay, but I don’t understand what that has to do with anything,” Missy was confused.

  “Raoul wasn’t the only one under consideration for the position. There were a handful of other staff members who had made the final cut, and they were supposed to find out who earned the promotion the day after he was murdered. The housekeeper, named Rosa, that our guy talked to said that there was one person in particular who was Raoul’s main rival, and apparently the two were bitter foes,” Beckett explained.

  “Who was it?” she sat forward.

  “Remember the first night that we went to the restaurant here at the resort and Raoul bypassed the concierge, giving us the best table in the house?”

  “Yes, of course, that was a lovely evening,” she nodded.

  “The concierge, whose name is Miguel Garcia, is the one who was awarded the promotion. He was Raoul’s rival, and he may have thought that the only way he could move up in the world was by eliminating his primary competition. He gave a very pointed statement to the police about the argument that you had with Raoul on the beach, making it sound like you were mad enough to kill someone.”

  “That’s just ridiculous,” she shook her head, annoyed. “Yes, I was mad, but I reacted completely appropriately, given the situation. I certainly didn’t give off a homicidal air.”

  “Of course not, but who better to point the finger of blame at than an innocent American woman whose word wouldn’t mean much in this macho culture?”

  Missy nodded, getting it. “That makes sense, I suppose. But if Miguel killed Raoul, why would he also kill the housekeeper? Was she competing for the promotion too?”

  “No, she wasn’t, but she may have witnessed him killing Raoul, or leaving his body at the beach. Rinaldo’s contact in the police department is going to question her today.”

  “That theory also doesn’t explain why he would’ve trashed my room. That just doesn’t make sense,” she chewed her bottom lip, thinking.

  “I agree,” Chas nodded. “We should know more once the forensics results come rolling in,” he assured her. “I’m starving, what would you like for lunch?”

  Missy thought about it for a moment, then answered with a sad, faraway look in her eyes. “A cheeseburger, with ketchup. And fries. And a ridiculous slice of warm apple pie with ice cream and caramel sauce on top.”

  “I’m with you on that one,” Chas grinned, picking up the room service menu. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

  Room service did an amazing job of preparing their all-American feast, and they ate until they were stuffed, talking and laughing while they enjoyed the simple yet decadent meal. After lunch, Chas left to meet Rinaldo at a private spot near the beach where they could speak without being seen or heard, and Missy decided that she had to get out of her room for a while at least, she was going stir-crazy having to stay inside while in the midst of tropical paradise. The rude staff members who gave her dirty looks would just have to deal with it. She would hold her head high knowing that she had done nothing to deserve their judgment and hostility. The embassy hadn’t yet managed to get the freeze on her bank accounts lifted, but if she wanted to order anything, she could just charge it to her room.

  Determined to enjoy the vacation that she had paid for, despite the circumstances, she slipped into the lime green bikini that Chas had purchased for her, threw her new tube of sunscreen, cell phone, a book, and a towel into her beach bag, placed a floppy hat over the top of her messy bun, wrapped herself in a swimsuit cover-up, and headed for the beach. The path between the main resort and the beach was thick with lush vegetation, and the path was only wide enough for two people to walk comfortably side by side. Missy kept herself oblivious to curious and/or hostile onlookers as she walked through the resort, by placing earbuds connected to an IPod, playing 80’s music in her ears and tunelessly humming along as she headed to the beach path.

  Thankfully, she found that the resort was largely deserted at this time of day; most of the tourists were off on adventures and wouldn’t be back to their rooms before dinner. The air was cooler on the path to the beach – the dense plantings providing ample shade, and the ocean breeze wafting through. Missy was about halfway to the beach when the hair on the back of her neck stood up and she shivered with a sudden chill. Removing one of her earbuds, she stopped walking and listened, hearing nothing but a slight rustle in the foliage behind her. Knowing that huge iguanas were commonplace, she shrugged off her fear, replaced the earbud and kept going. Something that felt like a large bee stung her in the back of the neck and when she tried to slap it away, she encountered resistance, but didn’t have enough time to turn around and see its source before the world faded to black.

  Chapter 11

  “Senorita…senorita…wake up please…” a kind voice warmed Missy’s ears as she swam in a murky sea of half-sleep.

  “Senorita…senorita…” she heard again, trying desperately to open her eyes, but failing miserably, and succumbing to the darkness once again.

  “Missy? Open your eyes for me, Missy,” Chas’s voice commanded gently. “C’mon now, I see you waking up, I know you can hear me…open your eyes.”

  Missy lifted her heavy eyelids slowly, waking to a hospital room that was brightly out of focus and a headache that pounded unbearably. “Ow,” she croaked, her throat parched. A straw was held to her lips and she drank greedily, the cool water a soothing balm to her throat.

  “Better?” Chas asked.

  She would have nodded, but feared the painful implications of such an act and responded instead. “Mmhmm…what happened?” she rasped in a whisper.

  “Apparently you went for a walk on the beach and fell, hitting your head. You’ve been out of it for a couple of days now,” he replied, laying a cool hand on her aching forehead. His words brought the afternoon back to her in vivid and instant recall.

  “No, I didn’t hit my head,” she mumbled. “I was stung. By a bee. Or a wasp. Or something.”

  Chas leaned forward, his eyes intense. “You were stung by something? Where?”
<
br />   “On the back of my neck. It hurt,” she complained dully.

  “I know that this may be painful, but can you sit up a bit so that I can see the back of your neck?” he asked, urgency in his voice.

  “Of course,” she agreed. “But you’re going to have to help me.”

  Beckett tenderly helped Missy move to a more upright sitting position, and brushed the tangled blonde curls from the back of her neck, where she had told him she felt the pain. His brow furrowed when he saw the spot that she had indicated, and he quickly helped her back into a more comfortable position.

  “I’m going to tell the doctor that you’re awake now, so she’ll probably be in to visit with you in a few minutes. Be sure to tell her about the…bee sting. I’m going to leave for a bit, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Get some rest, okay?” He kissed her on the cheek and headed for the door without waiting for her response.

  “Okay,” she called after him, wondering why on earth he was in such a hurry.

  Missy slept on and off for the rest of the day, feeling drugged and lethargic. Chas returned just in time to help her with a light dinner, and stayed to watch a TV show on a tiny TV suspended from the ceiling. When he saw that her breathing had become deep and even, he slipped out and went back to the resort. When he reached the hall where he and Missy had their rooms, he noticed that her door was slightly ajar. Not seeing any housekeeping carts around, he suspected the worst, and pushed the door open quickly, astounded to see that none of Missy’s possessions remained in the room. Every item, from her newly purchased toothbrush and clothing to the cupcake ingredients in the kitchen was missing. Chas whirled around when he heard footsteps behind him and faced off on Miguel Garcia, the concierge whom he suspected of killing Raoul.

  “Excuse me sir,” Miguel said cordially. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I apologize for your inconvenience. We have moved Senorita Gladstone’s belongings back into her original room now that the police are done with their investigation. I hope that is okay,” he smiled, guileless.