Rum Cake Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 8 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries)

by Carol Durand

  Her name and address were on the front of the envelope, which had apparently been dropped off by someone from the offices of Parker, LeBlanc and Christianson, Attorneys at Law. Thinking that the correspondence was likely from Loretta Christianson, perhaps thanking her for her donation and time, she tossed it on the kitchen table, heading upstairs to change for some serious time in the park with her prancing and frolicking retriever. A comically rigorous game of fetch with Toffee was just the medicine that Missy needed to shake off her worry and sadness, even if just for a while, and regain a sense of perspective, and by the time the daring duo headed for home, both were happily worn out. The text tone on Missy’s phone pinged, alerting her to a text from Chas, requesting the pleasure of her company at his house for dinner and a movie, which after the day she’d had, sounded just heavenly.

  After taking care of Toffee’s dinner and filling a bowl with fresh, cool water for the panting animal, Missy jogged up the stairs to shower and dress for dinner. She selected an outfit of jeans and a sumptuous blue angora sweater that was entirely appropriate for winter in Louisiana, pulled her blonde curls up into a messy bun, and highlighted her soft grey eyes with just a touch of eyeliner and mascara. It may only be an “at-home date,” but she wanted to look casually pretty when the tall-dark-and-handsome detective opened his door.

  An evening with Chas was just what she needed. Good wine, good food and good company sounded like the perfect combination to help her relax, and the detective’s calming presence nearly always served to restore her optimism.

  “Hey beautiful,” he greeted her with a smile when she opened his front door and found him in the kitchen. She nestled into his embrace, resting her cheek on the hard planes of his muscular chest, and took comfort in the simple, regular sound of his heartbeat, as Toffee made herself at home on the dog bed that he kept for her in the living room.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” she murmured, content within the circle of his arms.

  “You okay?” he asked, stepping back a bit so that he could look into her eyes, and relieved when there were no tears.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” Missy nodded. “I’m worried about Ben of course, but I’m determined to enjoy myself tonight anyway.”

  “Yeah…about that…” Chas began, looking concerned.

  “Oh no…what? Did you find something?” she interrupted.

  “Let’s have some dinner and we’ll discuss it,” the detective placed his hand in the small of her back, gently directing her toward the dining room, where the table was set casually with everyday plates and utensils, a bottle of Italian red wine, and two boxes from Missy’s favorite pizzeria. He’d used red linen napkins, and red tapers to solidify the theme, and while Missy was delighted at his thoughtfulness, she was too curious about what was happening with the investigation to pay much attention to her surroundings.

  Chas pulled out her chair for her, then took the seat directly across the table, reaching for her plate and placed two large slices of combination pizza on it. The melted cheese stretched between the slices as he pulled them out of the box in a way that normally would have made Missy’s mouth water, but at the moment, she was preoccupied with thoughts of Ben.

  “So, what’s going on?” she asked, biting the tip off of her slice of pizza.

  “We’ve identified the body,” the detective said, shaking extra parmesan on top of his heaping plate.

  “Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?” she interrupted again, impatient to hear something positive.

  “Typically, yes, because most crimes aren’t random. Victims generally know their killers, and the association that they have can lead right to the perpetrator,” he explained, holding something back.

  “Wait…” Missy frowned. “You said, ‘typically’ identifying the victim is a positive thing. Why wouldn’t it be in this case?” she asked, dreading the answer.

  “The victim was Stanley Conner,” Chas replied, as though that explained it all. When his pronouncement was greeted with nothing more than a blank look, he continued, “….Cheryl’s stepfather.”

  Missy was confused. “That’s strange, I thought that Cheryl didn’t have any family around here.”

  “She doesn’t. Conner is from out of state. We did a little digging and discovered that he left town a few years ago, after Cheryl’s mom died under very suspicious circumstances. It was before I came to LaChance, but guys who were on the force at the time said that, even though it looked like Stanley Conner had killed his wife, Cheryl’s mom, the DA felt like there wasn’t enough evidence to convict, so he was never brought to trial,” he explained.

  Missy’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Well, that would certainly explain why the poor girl never mentioned having a stepfather. I had no idea that her mother was murdered, how terribly sad.”

  Chas nodded, avoiding her gaze.

  “What?” Missy asked suspiciously, realizing that he wasn’t telling her the whole story.

  He gave her a pained look and answered reluctantly. “The unfortunate thing in all of this is that, determining the identity of the victim only served to strengthen the idea that Ben might be the perpetrator, and if he’s not…the scrutiny will most likely fall upon Cheryl.”

  “That’s utterly ridiculous,” Missy exclaimed, pushing her plate away. “Cheryl is entirely incapable of harming anyone.”

  “Her statement given after her mother’s death would seem to indicate otherwise,” Beckett said gently.

  “What do you mean?” she narrowed her eyes, not wanting to believe that the sweet girl who had worked diligently for her was capable of a heinous crime.

  “She made no secret of the fact that she thought that Stanley had killed her mother, and made several statements regarding her desire to see him imprisoned for life.”

  “Which is completely understandable under the circumstances,” Missy defended the girl.

  “Yes, it is,” Chas agreed. “But it also implies some pretty intense feelings of hostility toward a murder victim who just happened to be found dead insider her boyfriend’s clown costume.”

  “But how would Cheryl have even known that Stanley was in town? And I’m almost positive that Ben couldn’t have known who he was. He never mentioned anything to me, and wasn’t acting strangely at all. He wouldn’t have even been at the event if I hadn’t called him. Which I really wish I hadn’t after everything that’s happened,” she lamented. “Why was Stanley Conner even in LaChance to begin with?”

  “We don’t know, but he was a nurse at the hospital when he lived here, so it’s plausible that he heard about the event and wanted to attend,” the detective mused.

  “Was he on the guest list?”

  “No. That’s the wrench in the works. He wasn’t invited, and yet he was there. I’m hoping that when we find out the reason for his return to LaChance, it’ll lead us to the murderer.”

  Missy’s eyes widened. “Oh no…” she whispered, feeling slightly ill.

  “What?” Beckett asked, leaning forward and taking her hand.

  Missy raised her eyes to meet his and replied woodenly, “What if Stanley was in town because he heard that Cheryl was engaged.”

  “That would mean that he’d potentially been in contact with her, and she could have known that he would be attending the event,” Chas admitted ruefully.

  “Oh my goodness, Chas…do you think she could have possibly…?” Missy couldn’t bring herself to even finish the sentence, staring at the detective wide-eyed and clutching his hand.

  “She could have,” he nodded. “Or, perhaps even worse…she could have prompted her fiancé to do it for her, or with her,” Chas gazed at Missy gravely.

  Missy shook her head vehemently in disbelief. “No. I can’t believe that. I won’t. Not about Ben. I know he loves her, but I refuse to believe that he would do such a thing,” she set her mouth in a firm line.

  “Cheryl’s coming in for questioning tomorrow morning. She doesn’t know the identity of the victim, and I need you to pr
omise me that you won’t tell her. I have a feeling that once we speak to her, we’ll have a better idea as to how we need to proceed with the investigation,” he said quietly, brushing away a tear that had rolled down Missy’s cheek. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions just yet. We don’t have all of the lab results back, and it’s usually the evidence that tells the tale.”

  Missy was so worn out and defeated after speaking with Chas about the case, that she elected to skip the movie and went home to take a bubble bath before bed. Spotting the manila envelope from Parker, LeBlanc and Christianson that she had entirely forgotten, she picked it up on her way upstairs, figuring that it would be nice to read a pleasant thank you from Loretta after all the potentially bad news that she’d just received. Bending back the small brass wings that held the envelope shut, she reached in, expecting a sweet, handmade card, and pulled out a multi-legal document. Too tired to make heads or tails of it at the moment, she stuffed it back in the envelope, knowing that Chas would help her interpret the legalese in the morning.

  Chapter 9

  “According to this, a Dr. Bernard Radcliffe Aston is alleging that a representative of your company, namely, Ben, gave his vegan, celiac daughter a normal cupcake during the children’s party at the hotel, which resulted in a reaction so severe that it necessitated a hospital stay,” Chas said, scanning the stack of legal documents. “He’s suing Ben, you as a person, and you as a business owner, for the cost of the hospital stay and damages. He’s also alleging that you are a danger to the community, and is asking for punitive damages which include both of your stores being closed down.”

  The color drained from Missy’s face and she swayed on her feet. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, shocked. “We’d never hurt anyone, much less a child. Ben had nothing to do with the cupcakes. He didn’t give any out, he was too busy making balloon animals and singing funny songs. If anyone is to blame, it’s me, but I’m certain that I didn’t give any regular cupcakes out to a child with warning wristbands on,” she fretted, tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked up at the detective in utter terror. “Chas…I could lose…everything.”

  “Not to mention the fact that this lawsuit is going to cast an even more negative light upon Ben. First he’s suspected of murder, and now, he may be held accountable for physical damage done to a child,” Beckett said grimly.

  “What are we going to do?” she cried plaintively.

  “It’s time to talk with an attorney.”

  **

  Missy dialed Loretta Christianson’s number, thinking that, because her husband was an attorney, she’d surely know who to call for someone in her situation.

  “Loretta speaking,” the organizer sang out upon answering her phone.

  “Hi Loretta, it’s Missy Gladstone. I hate to bother you but…” Missy began, only to be rudely cut off.

  “I have nothing to say to you, Melissa. I trusted you with the health and well-being of innocent young children, and your incompetence endangered one of those precious young lives. I’m glad my husband is the one suing you, you should be ashamed of yourself,” she accused, hanging up before Missy could even get a word in edgewise.

  When she heard the click of Loretta hanging up, Missy looked at her phone in dismay. Not only was she being unfairly accused, but in a town the size of LaChance, having an enemy as powerful as Loretta Christianson could be financially devastating as well as socially uncomfortable. Stomach churning with fear and shame, Missy laid her head down on her kitchen table and cried. Dear, gentle Toffee came over and put her head on Missy’s knee, entirely unsurprised when her best friend slid down to the floor and buried a tear-stained face into her coat.

  Chapter 10

  Missy had been avoiding Cheryl because she didn’t know what to say to her, and couldn’t shake the thought that the sweet-seeming girl may very well have killed her stepfather, but when she received a text from her that said “911, please call me at the shop,” she knew she had no choice but to respond.

  “Hi Cheryl, it’s Missy. What’s going on?”

  The young woman sounded panicked and spoke in a low voice. “Is there any way that you can come into the shop? I’ve had people calling me all morning to cancel their delivery and party orders. I have no idea what’s going on, and none of them will tell me why they’re cancelling. I don’t know what’s happening, or what to do.”

  Missy sighed, guessing that Loretta Christianson had been on the warpath, convincing the many friends that she had in various businesses, churches and organizations that Missy’s cupcakes were not to be trusted. “Okay Cheryl, I’ll be over there in a few, just make a stack of the requests to cancel, and I’ll call them back to see what I can find out,” she directed.

  Missy was numb. The LaChance shop had been started by her parents decades ago, and passed on to her after their tragic deaths when she was just seventeen. Baking for a living was the only life she’d ever known, and the thought of her beloved shops closing filled her with an unspeakable dread. She had to fight the lawsuit. One way or another, the truth had to set her free. She couldn’t fathom any other option.

  Going directly to her office off of the kitchen in the back of the shop, Missy did her best to avoid Cheryl, her greeting to the bewildered girl polite but short. Grayson and Cheryl exchanged a puzzled look at the owner’s cool indifference, but shrugged it off and kept working. Most of the patrons who had cancelled didn’t answer Missy’s calls, but the ones who did gave vague excuses and got off the phone as soon as possible. Some of them seemed quite cold to her, and after dealing with so many people who were just shy of being rude, she leaned her head in her hand and dumped the rest of the cancellation requests in the trash.

  Feeling as though her world was falling apart, she gathered her purse and stood to leave. A soft knock on her doorframe caused her to turn.

  “Ms. G., is everything okay?” Cheryl asked quietly, concern written over her features.

  “No, actually, nothing is okay, but I’m dealing with it the best way that I know how,” Missy snapped, immediately ashamed of her tone.

  “It’s about me, isn’t it? It’s because they think that I killed Stanley,” she mumbled, embarrassed. “You don’t think that I did it, do you?” she asked pitifully.

  Missy eyed her sadly for a long moment before responding.

  “Anymore, I have no idea what to think,” she said tiredly, brushing past the miserable girl. “You can let Grayson close up by himself if you need to go home. I don’t think we’re going to be getting much business for a while,” she tossed over her shoulder, heading out the door. When Ben called a few minutes later, asking if Chris could close up the Dellville store so that he could drive over and give Cheryl a ride home, she felt a twinge of conscience, knowing that the poor girl had probably fallen apart after she left. Taking the guilt over her treatment of Cheryl out on Ben, she told him that he needed to make sure that everything at the Dellville store was taken care of before he picked up his distraught former fiancé, knowing full well that he would never consider leaving his work undone. He sounded hurt when he hung up, making Missy feel like a first-class heel, but she allowed her frustration to convince her that she didn’t care, she was just being the boss.

  Driving home, Missy felt her fear and frustration building within her to the point where she felt like she just might explode. Charging up the back porch steps, she ran up to her bedroom and changed into exercise wear. Toffee, who had been at her heels from the moment that she came in, wagged her tail excitedly when Missy jogged back downstairs and snapped the leash onto her collar. Taking the usual backpack of items, dog and owner headed to the park. Missy could walk, run and toss her frustrations about, and Toffee would joyfully be on the receiving end of it. The two ran and played hard for over an hour, then headed home for dinner.

  After a long, hot shower, Missy made a simple meal of red beans and rice with slices of spicy andouille, and curled up on the couch to find escape in a movie. The text tone on her phone pinged and sh
e picked it up, seeing a message from Chas.

  “There’s been an accident. I’m five minutes away from your house and will pick you up.”

  Missy couldn’t imagine what kind of accident Chas might be talking about, but accidents in general were never good, so her heart rate accelerated a bit as she reached for her shoes. She ran a quick brush through her hair, and heard Toffee enthusiastically greeting the handsome detective. She practically flew down the stairs.

  “What accident? What happened?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Ben lost control of his car and it went over an embankment. He and Cheryl are in the hospital. She’s conscious, but is pretty shaken up, and Ben…” he hesitated.

  “Ben what? What about Ben?” Missy panicked, grabbing Beckett’s arm.

  “He has a head injury and hasn’t regained consciousness yet,” the detective broke the news to her as gently as possible.

  Her hands went to her throat as tears welled. “Oh my goodness, Chas, is he going to be okay?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know, sweetie. I wish I did,” he pulled her into a brief embrace, then led her out the door.

  Cheryl was being questioned by a police officer when they arrived, and would be allowed to go home with bandages and pain meds as soon as they were finished. Ben was in intensive care, and couldn’t have any visitors as yet, so Missy and Chas sat in the IC waiting room, hoping for the best. The officer who had been speaking with Cheryl when they came in, entered the waiting room quietly and asked to speak with Chas, who left the room with him immediately.

  Missy shivered in the chilly waiting room. The chairs were uncomfortably firm and covered in a waterproof, stain-proof fabric which featured a pattern of green leaves on a dark purple background. A vending machine hummed in the corner, and the scent of hand-sanitizer and antiseptics permeated the space. Missy noticed that it was the most cold, impersonal room that she had been in in quite some time, and felt somehow that she deserved to be in the imposing space. She berated herself for being nasty and short with both Ben and Cheryl before their accident.