“Then we’ll make sure he’s happy and healthy until he goes to his forever home,” she headed for the Inn to get Moose some water and entertain him until Spencer returned.
Chapter 7
Chas didn’t return for a very long time after showing up to deal with the death down the street. When he finally did show up later that evening, looking tired and grim, Missy was puzzled.
“Is everything okay? I had no idea that finding a dead person would take up so much time,” she remarked.
“If it had simply been a death, I would have been home much sooner, but it wasn’t, so I had to deal with a crime scene rather than making a simple call to the mortuary,” the detective explained.
“A crime scene? What happened?” her eyes widened, and she unconsciously pulled Bitsy, who had been napping on her lap, closer. Toffee, the sweet, mellow golden retriever, who was sprawled under the coffee table, looked up briefly, then laid her head across Missy’s feet.
“The owner was an elderly widow, who apparently lived alone, with just her cat for company. Someone broke in a couple of days ago and ransacked the place, killing her before they left,” Chas said with a disgusted shake of the head.
“Oh that poor woman. She must’ve been terrified,” Missy murmured.
“Well, if she was, she didn’t have to endure the terror for too long, the killer was quite…efficient in their lethality.”
Missy swallowed hard. “Oh dear. I don’t want to know,” she shook her head, tucking her legs up underneath her. “Do you have any idea who might have done such a thing? That’s a little too close to home for comfort.”
“I don’t think that you have anything to worry about, even though it happened right down the street. These things usually tend to be personal,” the detective reassured his wife.
“But, who would have something personal against an elderly widow?”
“The intruder could obviously tell that there were valuables inside the home – it’s pretty luxurious, even by Calgon standards. There was evidence that indicated that much of her jewelry was missing, and there was coffee, flour and sugar all over her kitchen cabinets.”
“So…she was baking when the intruder came in?” Missy was confused.
“No. Given her age, my guess is that she kept cash hidden in plastic bags at the bottom of the containers that held the coffee, sugar and flour. That’s pretty common with older folks who want to keep a significant amount of cash handy. She wasn’t poor by a long shot, so whoever did this may have been motivated by money,” he thought aloud.
“How did they get in?”
“There was a window at the back of the house that was open. It had to be someone who was in pretty good shape, because it’s kind of high off of the ground, but apparently it had accidentally been left unlocked. They left the same way that they came in.”
“How do you know that? Missy asked.
“There were some faint footprints that tracked flour from the kitchen back to the window.”
“But why wouldn’t they have just unlocked the door and left in a normal way?”
“The house has an alarm system. If they didn’t know how to disarm it, it would’ve gone off when they opened the door. Since the window was already open, they had safe access and a safe exit,” the detective explained.
“Moose must’ve slipped out of the window after the thief did,” Missy mused.
“I had Spencer bring him to the lab so that one of our guys could take some samples from his claws and fur. He had blood on his paws, but we won’t know for a few days whether it was from the victim or the assailant.”
“That poor kitty,” she frowned.
“He’s in good hands now,” Chas reminded her. “Spencer is spoiling him like crazy. He keeps his distance from Beau, though.”
“Yeah, Beau doesn’t like cats.”
“They can usually tell,” Chas nodded.
“Are there any surviving relatives? Do you think someone will come to claim him?” Missy wondered.
“We’re looking for next of kin information. I’m thinking someone will certainly step forward to lay claim to her estate.”
“What an awful situation,” she shook her head.
“Money does funny things to people,” the detective grimaced.
Chas had inherited billions when his father passed away, but had chosen to live his life as though he had to work for every dime. He gave generously of his time and money to charities, and the only evidence that he was ridiculously wealthy was his top-notch wardrobe. There had been a bit of ugliness among his siblings concerning the will, but good sense and family ties had prevailed, and they all had agreed to be reasonable about their father’s wishes, particularly since every one of them was set for life.
“Well, I hope that you find whoever did this. Do you think we should take extra security precautions?” she asked, trying not to be overly fearful.
“I’m here, and we have a Marine living in the basement who hears a twig snap from a mile away. As long as we don’t forget to lock up, I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Chas smiled at his wife, glad that they’d hired Spencer a few months ago. The lad suffered from PTSD – he’d confided to Chas that he hated thunderstorms because they sounded too much like explosions, but his training and sensitivity had made him a tremendous security asset.
“I sure hope so,” Missy replied, snuggling her tiny dog up under her chin.
Chapter 8
“Cassandra Bielman?” Kel asked, surprised, when Missy and Echo told him about their gruesome discovery.
“You knew her?” Echo asked.
“Well…in a sense, everyone in Calgon knew her. Cassie was very generous to local charities and was one of those rare old birds that never had a bad thing to say about anyone. She had quite a collection of my pieces. She particularly loved the blues and greens that I used in my Oceania landscapes,” he replied sadly.
“But, if she was that well-loved, who could possibly have done such a horrible thing?” Missy wondered.
“Good question,” Kel shook his head. “She’s the last person that I would think something like this could happen to. But, then again, she was an elderly woman, living all alone in that big house full of art and antiques,” he pointed out.
Missy shivered. “I just hate that it happened so close to home.”
“Is Chas worried about it?” Echo asked, knowing that there were several art pieces and antiques gracing many of the rooms at the Inn.
“He didn’t seem to be.”
“Well, that’s good. It was probably one of those fluke things that happened as some miscreant was passing through,” Kel proposed. “I think I’ll do a bit of asking around town though. How did you little lawn boy work out yesterday?” he asked Echo, changing the subject.
“The yard looks a thousand times better, my kitchen faucet no longer leaks, my patio is formed up, and the concrete will be poured today,” she grinned. “Beau did an amazing job. We have a couple of sculpture and painting installations on the books for next week that we should be able to give him, too.” she announced.
Kel chuckled. “Aren’t you two just a pair,” he said, gazing at them in amusement. “Rescuing small animals and young men.”
“It does seem to work out that way,” Missy agreed with a smile. “So far, so good.”
The bells over the front door of Cupcakes in Paradise jangled, announcing a new arrival.
“Officer Scoggins…how are you this morning?” Missy greeted the weathered and weary career policeman who worked with Chas.
“Quite well, Mrs. Beckett, thank you for asking,” he replied gruffly, standing just inside the door.
“We were just having some cupcakes and coffee, would you like some?” she offered.
“No, thank you. I’m here to inquire as to the whereabouts of one Mr…Spencer Bengal,” he said gravely, consulting his notepad. Missy’s heart sunk. She knew that the good-hearted Marine couldn’t have done anything wrong, but a policeman showing up and asking for him
raised a red flag.
“He should be helping Maggie finish serving breakfast over at the Inn. Why? Is something wrong?”
“I appreciate your help ma’am. I’ll go see if I can find him,” Lane Scoggins replied, ignoring her questions.
“I wonder what that was all about?” Echo mused after Officer Scoggins had gone.
“Judging by the look on his face, it wasn’t anything good,” Kel remarked.
Missy shook her head. “It wasn’t necessarily bad. I think he always looks sort of dour.”
“Occupational hazard,” the artist said dryly.
“So, did you give my guest, Mr. Perkins a tour of your gallery yesterday?” Missy asked Kel, changing the subject to something that didn’t want to make her run over and interfere with Lane Scoggins’ work.
“Yes, I did, and it looks as though he may purchase quite a few pieces. Interesting fellow. Did he tell you that he grew up around here?”
“No, I haven’t really had much time to talk to him. He spends a lot of time at the beach.”
“Of course he does, that’s why he came back here. Life in the Midwest is wearing on him, and he’s thinking quite seriously about moving back here apparently.”
“I know I was hooked after being here a few days, even though it wasn’t California,” Echo nodded. “There’s just something about this place.”
“Indeed,” Kel nodded, rising from his chair. “Alas, my lovelies, I must be off, but I shall keep my ear to the ground in reference to Miss Cassandra Bielman. Perhaps the woman of many friends had some enemies.”
“Keep us posted, Kel,” Missy said, collecting plates and cups to put into the dishwasher.
“Most certainly, my beautiful friend.”
“What would we do without him?” Missy asked Echo after Kel left.
“Well, in my case…I’d starve, but yeah, I get what you mean. His knack for discovering information is uncanny.”
“And he’s a sweet soul.”
“That he is,” the red-haired beauty nodded.
Chapter 9
“Mrs. Beckett…excuse me, but, there was a policeman here earlier…should I be concerned?” mild-mannered Allen Perkins asked, pulling his hostess aside.
“Not at all,” Missy smiled, hoping that she wasn’t misleading the poor man. She honestly had no earthly idea whether or not he should be concerned, she didn’t know what was going on herself. “As you know, my husband, Chas, is a detective. If there was any reason for concern, he’d be sure to let us know,” she reassured the nervous man.
“Okay,” he said uncertainly. “Well, please keep me updated,” he blinked at her.
“I certainly will. Do you have big plans for today?” she asked, hoping to distract him from his fear.
“Well, I’ll be on the beach for a while of course,” he smiled. “Then, I believe I’ll be looking at commercial properties. I’m thinking of moving my business here,” he confided.
“Well, good for you – that’s wonderful! Would you like some cupcakes to take with you?” Missy offered.
“Oh yes, that would be lovely,” Allen replied enthusiastically. “Those gingerbread ones that you made a few days ago were quite possibly the best cupcakes I’ve ever had.”
“Aww…what a sweet thing to say. I’m so glad you enjoyed them. Let me run to the shop and bag some up for you. I’ll be right back,” she promised, heading for the door.
When she got to the front porch of the Inn, Moose was sitting on the top step, licking his paw. He looked up and immediately came to twine around her ankles.
“Hey, sweet boy. What are you doing outside?” she asked, scratching between his ears.
Beau came around the corner of the house, out of breath. “Oh good, he’s here,” he said, leaning over to catch his breath, hands on his knees. “Spencer is gone, and I accidentally left the door open. That dude,” he pointed at Moose. “Snuck past me and ran. I was worried that he might run out into traffic or something. He doesn’t really like me so…could you maybe pick him up and put him in the apartment?” he asked.
“Of course,” Missy agreed, picking up the already-purring animal and heading toward the basement. “Will you go grab a couple of cupcakes for Mr. Perkins and take them to him, please? He’s in the parlor.”
“Will do,” Beau said, trotting off toward the cupcake shop, where Echo was manning the front until Missy returned.
She returned Moose to Spencer’s apartment and wondered where the Marine had gone. He usually checked in with her, or Maggie, or both, before he ran errands. By the time she got back to the Inn, Beau had delivered Mr. Perkins’ cupcakes and neither of them were present.
“Hey Maggie, do you know where Spencer is?” she asked, entering the kitchen, out of which the delightful smell of leek soup wafted.
Maggie’s eyes widened, and she came closer, keeping her voice low. “An officer came in and took him down to the police station,” she confided in a worried half-whisper.
“Do you know why?” Missy asked, her heartbeat speeding up a bit.
“No idea,” the innkeeper shook her head. “There wasn’t even time to ask.”
“Well, I’m sure everything is fine,” Missy said uncertainly. “I’ll call Chas and see if he knows what’s happening.”
“Let me know if there’s anything that I can do,” Maggie said, twisting her hands nervously.
“I will, darlin, thanks,” Missy’s southern accent deepened with concern for the young Marine.
Chapter 10
Chas had called to let Missy know that he’d be staying at the station later than usual to work on Cassandra Bielman’s murder case, so Missy took the dogs for a long romp on the beach until the sun began to set, then came inside to make dinner. Cooking and baking when she was stressed was a coping mechanism that she’d used ever since she could remember, and tonight was no exception. Once the dogs’ needs were taken care of, she washed her hands and went to work, preparing good old fashioned Southern comfort food.
Her plan was to eat a bit of it herself, save some for Chas, and see if Spencer wanted anything. He’d come back to the Inn well after dinner time, and hadn’t stopped to talk with anyone, which worried his tender-hearted boss. The gregarious young man loved people, and rarely passed up a chance to talk. Thinking that he might open up about where he’d been and why he was so serious all of the sudden, she planned to stuff him full of her best crispy fried chicken, whipped mashed potatoes with butter, sour cream and chives, barbeque baked beans, and corn bread that would melt in his mouth. Her cooking was legendary to anyone who knew her, and she planned to use that skill to her advantage.
Soon, the kitchen in the Owner’s Wing was warm and deliciously scented with the familiar smells of home. Missy planned to bake after she’d had a bite to eat and tempted Spencer with a meal. She had some experimenting to do, because she wanted to invent some flavors for the holidays.
“Southern Fried Chicken and all the fixin’s…want to come over for dinner?” she texted the young Marine when all the food was ready.
“I’m good. Thanks for the offer tho” was the disheartening reply.
“I can bring a basket of goodies down to you, if that works better,” she tried again.
“Already in bed, but I’ll look forward to trying it tomorrow at lunch. Thanks.”
Missy frowned, and fixed herself a small plate. Comfort food just wasn’t the same when she had to eat it by herself, even with two pairs of warm brown eyes staring at her from their beds in the corner.
After her light dinner, Missy baked several batches of cookies, invented a new cupcake that she’d offer as a holiday treat next week, as they edged closer and closer to Christmas, and even came up with a lighter, fluffier buttercream recipe. Exhausted and satisfied with her efforts, she cleaned the kitchen and was headed for bed when she heard Chas come in.
“Hey, sweetie – I made food, are you hungry?” she asked, when the detective came in and kissed her soundly.
“That sounds great,
I haven’t eaten since breakfast,” he sighed, wearily passing a hand over his forehead and taking a seat at the breakfast bar.
“Wow, they’re really working you hard on this case, aren’t they?” Missy murmured, taking containers out of the refrigerator.
“Well, the good news is that the widow had everything in her house on an itemized list that was on file with her attorney. The bad news is that since we have a record of everything she owned, we have to cross check it with items in the house to see what’s missing and how it might be related to her death,” the detective explained.
“Kel said that she had several pieces from him,” she said, putting a plate into the microwave with a napkin over the top of it.
“That’s one of the things we’re looking into,” Chas nodded. “Every piece of Kel’s art that she had, was stolen.”
“Sounds like the thief had good taste,” Missy grimaced.
“And expensive taste. Whoever it was took the high-ticket jewelry items and left the costume stuff. She also had a built-in safe in the closet, which had been removed by someone who obviously knew what they were doing.”
“Is there any way to trace her belongings?”
“Not unless they show up for sale somewhere, and we’re already monitoring the usual channels for that,” Chas shook his head. “Oh my, that smells like exactly what I need,” he sighed with pleasure as Missy set his heaping plate in front of him. “I don’t like to eat heavily before bed, but I’m going to have to make an exception tonight. Thank you, sweetheart – you’re amazing,” he said, grabbing his wife’s hand and bringing it to his lips.
She sat down next to him and rubbed the back of his neck as he dug into his comfort food. “Who on earth would do such a thing? Do you think it was a professional thief?” she asked.
Chas chewed and swallowed a large bite of chicken before replying. “I can’t rule that out, but a pro would typically have made sure that the cat stayed in the house. It was a detail that was overlooked, which makes me skeptical about it being someone who does this sort of thing for a living,” he scooped up a decadent dollop of mashed potatoes and put it in his mouth, his eyes practically rolling back in his head at the glorious taste and texture.
Gingerbread Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 21 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 3