Champagne Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 27 (A Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries)

by Summer Prescott

“It’s the station,” he sighed. “I have to take it.”

  “I know, sweetie. You go ahead and answer it while I go refill our coffee,” she kissed his stubbly cheek.

  “Beckett,” he picked up the call as she left the room.

  By the time Missy came back upstairs with two steaming mugs of fresh coffee, Chas had already dressed and brushed his teeth.

  “You have to go in?”

  “I’m afraid so, Beautiful,” he said ruefully, stroking her cheek. “I really wanted a lazy morning to spend with you.”

  “Me too, but I understand. Is it bad?” she asked, biting her lip.

  “Could be. So far, it’s just a wellness check. A customer noticed that a shop hadn’t opened on time, even though all of the lights were on and the owner’s car was in the parking lot, so I need to go make certain that nothing strange is going on.”

  “A wellness check? Isn’t that something that a patrol officer does?” she asked, confused. Detectives weren’t typically called in on matters that didn’t involve a serious crime.

  “Normally, yes, but since this person is a high profile member of the community, the chief wanted me to check it out so that if anything was out of the ordinary, I could make certain that any unsavory details could be kept quiet,” the detective explained.

  “Oh, I see,” she nodded. “What shop is it?”

  “An exclusive little antique shop downtown…Past Thyme,” Chas replied, shrugging on his sport coat.

  “Oh my,” Missy paled. “I hope Cora is okay.”

  “You know the proprietor?” her husband was surprised.

  “Yes, she buys cupcakes from me, and I bought several antiques from her a few days ago. I’ve been meaning to talk with you about a beautiful trunk that I found there. Now, I’m worried, Cora’s elderly and seems frail…I hope nothing happened to her.”

  “Hopefully she just chose to sleep in this morning too,” Chas smiled at his tender-hearted wife. “Enjoy your breakfast, sweetie, and hopefully I’ll be back soon.”

  Missy finished her light breakfast after Chas left, then took her beloved dogs, Toffee a long-limbed golden retriever, and Bitsy, a spunky little maltipoo, on a long walk on the beach, hoping that her husband would be back by the time that she returned. When he wasn’t, her heart sunk, and she hoped against hope that Cora Greitzer was okay. Settling into her favorite window seat in the parlor, with a good novel and the dogs at her feet, Missy tried her best to distract herself from thinking about the sweet little old lady and the antique store.

  The detective finally returned home well after lunch, and Missy could tell by the look on his face that the news wasn’t good.

  “Is Cora…?” Missy asked softly, unable to complete the dreadful sentence.

  Chas nodded and enveloped her against his solid muscular chest.

  “Oh Chas, that’s just awful,” she murmured, safe in his arms. “What happened? Was she ill?”

  “I can’t comment on that, sweetie. There’s an investigation going on,” he rubbed her back.

  “An investigation? Why? Didn’t she die of natural causes? She was old, so I just assumed…” Missy pulled back to look at her husband, eyes wide with disbelief.

  “I don’t have anything to tell you right now. We’re waiting on some lab results, but her shop was trashed. Someone had come in and broken up furniture, smashed glass and mirrors and porcelain, it was a huge mess,” he shook his head.

  “Oh! So it was a robbery?” she asked, heartsick.

  “Doesn’t seem to be. Nothing was taken, as far as we can tell. There are still officers there, looking for the inventory records. It just looked like senseless destruction.”

  “Why would someone do such an awful thing to such a sweet little woman?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out, sweetie. Why, and who,” Chas replied grimly.

  “Does that mean you’re going back in tonight?”

  “Most likely. The evidence is being gathered, and something should turn up by tonight, I would think,” the detective nodded.

  “Will you at least be able to stay for dinner?” Missy asked, wanting to be near her husband.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he replied, folding her into his arms and kissing the top of her head.

  Chapter 8

  Echo collapsed into a rocker on her front porch, worn out. She’d spent the evening standing in front of hot vats of wax, dipping candles, then cutting and twisting them into interesting and beautiful shapes. The heat and humidity had finally caused her to flee from the confines of her cozy home, in order to cool down on the porch. She laid her head back and closed her eyes, enjoying the cool breeze that slightly lifted loose tendrils of her coppery hair from her damp forehead.

  “Well, if that ain’t just a pretty picture,” she heard the all-too-familiar drawl of her next door neighbor, as he shuffled up the steps.

  Opening her eyes, she made an effort not to sigh, at least out loud.

  “Evening, Steve,” she greeted him, too tired to fake a smile.

  “You feelin’ alright, little lady?” he asked, sitting down in the other rocker without being asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine. It just got a little warm inside the house, so I came out for some air.”

  “I know what ya mean. My side porch is one of my favorite parts of my house,” he sank down into the chair, his legs splayed out in front of him.

  “I noticed.”

  “So, when are you and me gonna start spendin’ some time together?” Steve asked, his gaze lingering far too long.

  “We’re neighbors, Steve. Let’s just leave it at that,” this time Echo did sigh, not caring how it sounded.

  “Yup, we’re neighbors, which is pretty handy if ya think about it. If you wanted to make me breakfast or sumthin, all you’d have to do is walk a few feet and come on in.”

  She stared at him, trying to determine if he was joking, hoping desperately that he was joking, and could see by the look on his face that he was not. He sat up suddenly and leaned toward her, something strange glittering in his eyes.

  “We could go over to my place right now,” he said in a low voice.

  Echo interrupted him before he could take that thought any further.

  “Look, Steve, I’m sure you’re a nice person in your own way, but I’m not interested in dating you. We’re neighbors, and it’s not a good idea,” she said, trying to let him down gently.

  “Who said anything about dating?” A leering smile crooked the corner of his mouth, exposing his need for better dental hygiene.

  “I think you should go. I just want to enjoy the air out here by myself.” If subtlety hadn’t worked, perhaps a social sledge hammer would.

  “Ain’t no reason to get feisty, now,” the insufferable man leaned closer, so close that she could smell cigarette smoke and stale beer on his breath. “I’m just bein’ neighborly,” he breathed.

  Echo backed away in revulsion and was prepared to unleash some hard truth on him, when a deep voice mercifully interrupted the exchange.

  “Package for you, Ms. Willis,” Brad, the hot delivery guy announced, suddenly appearing around a stand of palmetto.

  She breathed a sigh of relief, and pierced Steve with a look. “I need to take care of this,” she said, dismissing him, her voice icy. Her neighbor looked at Brad with suspicion, snorted, and lumbered past him, down the porch steps, headed for home.

  “Oh my goodness, you have no idea how perfect your timing is,” she breathed, smiling gratefully.

  “I heard enough of the conversation to know that he was about ten seconds away from me forcibly removing him,” Brad remarked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you think you’re safe living next door to that…guy?”

  “I think there’s a lot of wishful thinking going on there, but he seems harmless enough. So far, I’ve managed to shoo him away without too much trouble. He gets gross when he’s been drinking, but nothing that I can’t handle,” she shrugged.

  He gazed at her thou
ghtfully for a moment, then set down the package he was carrying on the porch.

  “This is the first of five. Now that I know you’re home, I’ll bring the other ones up. I’d be happy to take them inside for you, if you’d like,” he offered, flashing his dimples.

  “That would be great,” Echo nodded. “I’m so tired, I can hardly stand up straight…thank you.”

  “No prob, I’ll be back in a minute.”

  As promised, Brad returned momentarily with her other packages, and she showed him inside, leading him to the bedroom that functioned as her candle-making studio.

  “Wow, this is really cool,” he commented, looking around after handing her the clip board to sign. “Those candles are beautiful.”

  “Thanks. I make them with scents inspired by my friend’s cupcake business.”

  “So that’s why it smells so good in here. I thought that you must have a cake in the oven or something,” he smiled.

  Reaching into his pocket, he opened his palm to show her a small metallic tube.

  “This is for you,” Brad said, handing her the container of pepper spray. “Think of it as “pest repellent,” he grinned, referring to her persistent neighbor.

  “Oh, well, thank you, but I don’t think…” Echo began to protest.

  “Please, keep it,” he closed his hand over hers briefly. “I carry several in the truck, in case someone thinks that it might be a good idea to try to rob me. I’d really feel better if you at least had something like this…just in case.”

  “Okay,” she nodded. “I suppose that makes sense for someone living alone.”

  “Hey, I don’t want to overstep, here, but…do you think you might like to meet me for a drink sometime?” Brad asked, seeming suddenly shy.

  Kel’s face flashed briefly through Echo’s mind, making her hesitate at first, but she impulsively threw caution to the winds and nodded. “Yes, I think I’d like that very much.”

  “Great. Do you have a business card or something, so I can call you sometime?”

  “Sure.” She reached into a small box on a shelf and drew out a card for Kel’s gallery.

  “Oh, wow. You’re a Gallery Manager too? Talented lady,” he remarked, making her blush.

  “Or just pathologically busy,” she shrugged.

  “Well, you have a good evening, Echo, and I’ll be in touch soon,” he promised, heading toward the door.

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  Chapter 9

  “Poor Cora,” Echo lamented, when Missy told her friends the news of the antique shop owner’s demise. “She was so sweet…I hope that she didn’t suffer.”

  “Did she die of natural causes?” Kel asked, raising his eyebrows. “She appeared to be frail, but she was a tough old bird. It would surprise me if she succumbed to an illness, even at her age.”

  “Chas won’t tell me any details, but I think that they suspect foul play, because they’re still investigating,” she sighed.

  “I know I’m a horrible person for thinking of this when a poor old woman is dead, but it’s a shame that you didn’t just buy that trunk while you had the chance,” Echo commented.

  “You are terrible,” Missy raised an eyebrow. “But I have to confess, the thought crossed my mind as well.”

  “Wow, that must’ve been a special piece for both of you to have reacted that way,” Kel remarked. “But, there will be other pieces that are equally perfect, I’m sure. Speaking of pieces…” he turned to Missy.

  “The European collector that I’ve been talking to would like to meet with local collectors who can give him a reference for my work. I’ve already taken him over to Carla’s, would you be willing to meet with him later today or tomorrow?”

  “Sure, that would be fine. That reminds me, I need to call Carla. She’s been so busy that I haven’t had a chance to talk to her hardly at all,” Missy replied. Carla Mayhew was Missy’s friend and Interior Decorator, and had become close to the newly transplanted Louisianan when she needed it most after moving to Florida.

  “Did she try to hit on your client?” Echo asked dryly. Ever since Carla’s husband was killed several months ago, the decorator had been unashamed about her need for male companionship.

  “No more than usual,” Kel replied. “Missy, I’ll let Mr. Zambala know that he can meet with you.”

  “Sounds good,” she nodded. “Kel…you were saying that Cora’s grandson Michael was a bit of a suspicious character, right?”

  “To say the least,” the artist nodded. “Why?”

  “Well, I told Chas about him, and he said that they were looking for him so that they could question him. Do you have any idea where he might hang out?”

  “Not at present, but I know some folks who might have a better idea than I, as to where we might find the lad. I’ll do some asking around.”

  “That would be great. I’d hate to think that a young man would do such a horrible thing to his grandmother, who clearly loved him, but I suppose it’s possible,” Missy sighed.

  Spencer Bengal had been stocking the display cases and wiping down counters and furniture while the three friends talked, and had overheard a good portion of their conversation. Concerned about what, to him, didn’t seem like a random incident at all, he decided to do a bit of reconnaissance work once he was done for the day. The Marine was quite protective of the “adopted” family that he’d found with Missy and Chas, and this situation sounded like it could mean trouble for the detective.

  Chapter 10

  When Missy walked by the door to the parlor and heard someone walking around inside, she naturally assumed that it was Maggie, the innkeeper now that she was back from visiting her sister. The woman was indispensable, and while Missy and Spencer had managed to keep things running while she was gone, it was certainly a relief to have her back. The owner was more than a bit startled when she actually looked in the parlor and saw a handsome blond-haired man wandering around, casually examining the antiques and artwork.

  “Mr. Zambala?” she asked, knowing that the European art collector was supposed to be coming by in an hour or so.

  The man whirled around and stared at her blankly for a moment.

  “Mr. Zambala?” she repeated, confused.

  “Oh…er, no. My name is Brad. Echo told me that I could meet her here. We’re going to have lunch,” he explained.

  Missy thought it rather odd that he seemed to think it was perfectly okay to just walk right in and make himself at home, but since Echo had obviously given him permission, she let it pass.

  “Well, hello then. I’m Missy.”

  “Echo speaks very highly of you – it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he smiled, flashing dimples and holding out his hand. Missy shook it.

  “Likewise. So, you two are going to lunch?” she said lamely, still thrown off by having found him wandering around.

  “Yeah, it’ll be our first actual date,” he nodded. “She’s quite a gal.”

  “Indeed she is,” she agreed, hoping that Brad and Echo were gone long before Kel and Mr. Zambala arrived. Despite Echo’s insistence that she wasn’t interested romantically in the artist, he still carried a torch for her in a major way, and Missy didn’t want to see him awkwardly thrust into an uncomfortable situation. She needn’t have worried.

  “Hey all,” Echo breezed in, looking fabulous in a white peasant blouse and flowing multicolor skirt. “Sorry I’m late – I had to go out my back door so that I could avoid running into Loud Steve.”

  “Got your pepper spray?” Brad asked, looking concerned.

  “Yes, it’s in my purse,” she nodded happily. “Ready to go?”

  Missy looked from Echo to Brad and back again. Pepper spray? Echo, the pacifist who refused to even dig in the garden without making sure that the earthworms were okay, was carrying pepper spray? Echo noticed her furrowed brow and went over to give her a hug.

  “Long story, I’ll tell you later,” she whispered in her best friend’s ear with a grin.

&
nbsp; “You two have fun,” Missy manufactured a smile.

  Echo didn’t always have the best filters when it came to selecting gentleman friends. Pretty on the outside didn’t always mean that they’d be suitable for dating. She sighed to herself, wondering if she wasn’t just being skeptical because she was secretly rooting for Kel to win her best friend’s heart.

  “Sometimes that girl can’t even see what’s right under her nose,” she muttered, hearing the front door close as the couple left.

  Missy went to the kitchen to make coffee in case Kel and Mr. Zambala might want a cup while they chatted, and then headed back out to the foyer, jumping a bit when she saw a dark-haired, olive-skinned man gazing at one of Kel’s pieces that graced the entry.

  “Mr. Zambala?” she asked, hoping that maybe this time it actually was the art collector.

  “Yes,” he smiled. “Mrs. Beckett?”

  “Please, call me Missy,” she shook hands with the collector.

  “I apologize that I’m a few minutes early. My previous meeting was much shorter than I had anticipated, so I thought I’d just get here a bit earlier. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course, that’s perfectly fine. I have some fresh coffee brewing if you’d like a cup, or can I get you some water, or tea?” she offered.

  “Nothing, thank you. I was just admiring this piece,” he indicated the oil painting. “It is one of Mr. Kellerman’s, yes?”

  “Yes, it is. I just love Kel’s work. We have his paintings and sculptures as part of the décor here in the inn, and in the owner’s wing, where we live.”

  “He is a friend of yours?”

  “Oh yes. I met him shortly after we moved here several months ago, and once I saw his art, I just had to fill my home and business with it.”

  The front door opened and Kel came in. Seeing Missy standing with his client, he quickly glanced down at his watch.

  “I’m early, and yet it seems that the two of you have started without me,” he grinned, shaking hands with his client and giving Missy a hug.

  “We were just get acquainted while we waited for you,” Missy replied, then turned to Mr. Zambala. “Would you like to see the rest of our collection now?”