by Carol Durand
“I don’t know exactly,” Echo sighed. She took a gargantuan bite of her cupcake and chewed slowly, as though the very act of chewing was wearing her out. “I think I might be depressed,” she shrugged her shoulders limply.
“Depressed? But, honey, why?” Missy brushed a stray lock of slightly frizzy, naturally fire-red hair back from her friend’s brow.
“I don’t know. I think part of it is that I’ve been really homesick for California lately. I miss the beach, and the sunsets…” she trailed off and took a bracing swig of her coffee.
“Well there are pretty sunsets here in good ole Loosyana too,” she was reminded lightly.
“Yeah, I know, but they’re just not quite the same. Particularly when I don’t have anyone to share them with,” she looked down and swiped her forefinger across the top of her second cupcake, licking it clean.
“Sweetie, are you lonely? I’m so sorry, I’ve been a terrible friend,” Missy moved her chair closer and hugged her. “We can spend a lot more time together, I’m going to be hiring several more people anyway, so I won’t need to be here as much,” she reassured her.
Echo smiled ruefully. “No offense, dearest, but you don’t exactly have the right equipment to cure my loneliness,” she raised her eyebrows meaningfully.
“Oh!” Missy exclaimed, her cheeks flushing crimson. “You mean…umm…”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” her friend sighed. “I just want a man who’ll be nice to me – who’ll take me to the movies, eat ice cream with me, give me a hug when I need one,” she wished dreamily. “No offense, my beloved friend, but your arms are not nearly strong enough or hairy enough,” she teased, finally cracking a genuine smile at having made her friend jump to a conclusion that made her blush.
“Oh, right, of course,” Missy grinned, recovering.
“Not everyone has a Mr. Wonderful,” Echo mused wryly.
“Well, I’ll see if I can find you one,” Missy promised, meaning it.
“What would I do without you?” was the fond reply.
Chapter 4
“Graysooooooon!” Missy’s normally calm, cool, collected demeanor had temporarily taken leave as she prepared for the mayoral debate reception.
“Yeah, boss?” the youth came trotting over from where he had been putting finishing touches on a display.
Closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, and trying to remain calm, she said, “One of the star cupcakes for the flag has lost two of its points.”
Her voice wavered just a bit, but Grayson was perceptive and knew that she was close to the end of her rope for some reason. Everything was going smoothly, but the young man knew that she was also consumed with wedding plans and finding replacements for Ben and Cheryl, so her stress level was completely understandable, if not entirely warranted.
“Ms. G.,” he said, taking her by the shoulders and looking her dead in the eye, a bold move for the reclusive youth, “I’ve got this, okay? There are at least a dozen star replacement cupcakes in the van, I’ll just grab one and bring it out to the display,” he said, his confident manner calming her down significantly.
“Okay,” she nodded, relieved. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me today, I’m just feeling frazzled,” she wrapped her arms around herself.
“You’ll get through it, you always do,” he replied, giving her a sweet smile before heading out to the delivery van.
Grayson had outdone himself this time, and the mayor couldn’t be more thrilled. The debate had gone well, despite the fact that the two men had, at times, looked like they were going to come to blows, and the reception was mere moments away from beginning. There was an American flag cupcake display, complete with the star-shaped cupcakes that had stressed her out, along with a cupcake replica of the town seal, and Grayson’s piece de resistance, a life-sized cupcake cartoon rendering of the two candidates facing off with boxing gloves on, a masterpiece that filled several linen-covered tables, and was sure to be an instant hit.
When the last cupcake had been placed, it was merely minutes before the guests were scheduled to arrive.
“You did an amazing job, Grayson,” Missy hugged him. “I’m so proud of you.”
The young man grinned and blushed. “Thanks for letting me take charge of it, Ms. G., that really meant a lot to me,” his head bobbed and he thrust his hands into his pockets.
“That doesn’t look a thing like my husband,” a young woman’s nasally voice droned nearby. Missy and Grayson turned at the comment to see who could’ve said such a thing.
“Excuse me?” Missy said to the well-groomed stranger in the yellow Jackie-O suit, trying to keep a lid on her temper. She could feel Grayson shifting from foot to foot beside her. Having grown up in a broken home, the young man couldn’t stand conflict.
“Are you deaf? I said, that thing,” she enunciated, jabbing a finger at the cupcake likeness of Mayor Felton Chadwick’s rival. “Does not look at all like my husband, the Honorable Chester Kingsman,” she snipped haughtily.
“I…uh…got the likeness directly from his campaign photo,” Grayson mumbled, trying, in his non-confrontational way, to defend himself.
“Well then it clearly needed to be retouched,” the woman sneered nastily.
“Now wait just a minute,” Missy stepped toward the rude critic.
“Oh look,” the candidate’s coldly attractive and wickedly spoiled young wife had a wicked gleam in her eye. “You forgot his nostrils,” she smiled sweetly and plunged two fingers into the cupcakes that formed Chester’s nose.
Missy gasped as Grayson sprinted toward the staging area. “You wretched human being!” she accused, horrified at the woman’s behavior.
“You think I’m bad, wait ‘til you meet my husband,” she smirked, licking the frosting delicately from her manicured fingers.
Missy had to bite back her reply as the doors to the reception hall opened, admitting the two candidates, followed by the press and a large crowd of supporters on both sides of the aisle. Grayson charged back to the table, deftly slipping Missy the two new cupcakes that he’d fetched, removing the violated cakes and replacing them before the paparazzi reached the display.
“Thank you for saving the day, Grayson, I owe you,” Missy said in a low voice as the candidates approached. “And as for that nasty woman, why I’d like to…”
“Hello, Mayor Chadwick, Judge Kingsman!” Grayson said loudly, cutting her off as cameras began snapping photos of the brilliant display.
“Thanks,” she mouthed, before turning to smile at the two men who stood in front of her, admiring Grayson’s work.
“Well now, Melissa Gladstone, you’ve outdone yourself this time,” Felton said, pumping her hand enthusiastically.
“Actually, all of this is the concept and artistry of this young man,” Missy said proudly, introducing Grayson to folks that he considered to be local royalty.
“Young man,” Chester Kingsman rasped, sounding out of breath. “You are indeed an artist – this looks exactly like me,” he nodded with approval. Missy and Grayson exchanged a look and both had to concentrate hard on not bursting into laughter.
“Thank you sir,” he replied, shaking the candidate’s hand.
The two candidates stayed long enough to pose for some photos, publicly continue to debate some of their favorite topics, and sample a few of Missy’s delightful goodies before retiring for the evening. The party continued for a couple of hours after their exit, with Missy and Grayson faithfully restocking cupcakes as needed.
“I am so ridiculously tired,” Missy blinked, slumping into a chair for a moment, prior to starting cleanup, after the last guest had been ushered out.
“Me too,” Grayson yawned and stretched. “But the sooner we clean up our stuff, the sooner we get out of here,” he reasoned, heading to the van for boxes in which to place the leftover cupcakes. After major events like this one, Missy took the leftovers to the local homeless shelters for an evening snack.
Grayson c
ame charging back into the reception hall moments later, white as a ghost.
“Goodness gracious, honey, what’s wrong?” Missy’s southern accent went into overdrive when she was scared.
The poor young man could barely get the words out. “Chester Kingsman is in the back of our van…and it looks like he’s dead!”
Chapter 5
Police swarmed the elegant reception hall and Missy and Grayson now had so much adrenalin racing through their veins that neither of them could even think about going to sleep, despite their earlier exhaustion. Detective Chas Beckett was overseeing the investigation and had interviewed all of the staff members who were still at the hall at the time before heading over to Missy and Grayson, who were huddled together at a small table.
“Did you look in the van?” Chas asked Missy quietly after sitting down across from the shaken pair.
She shook her head slowly. “I couldn’t…I didn’t want to see,” was her numb reply.
“And you?” the detective asked Grayson.
The youth swallowed hard, remembering the gruesome sight and the coppery smell of blood. So much blood. “Yes sir,” he nodded, wide-eyed. “I saw.”
“Was there anything that struck you as odd when you approached the van? Anything that seemed out of place?” he probed.
“I was a little bit surprised that it was unlocked, but then I just figured that I had probably done that by accident when I ran out here to fix Judge Kingsman’s nose,” he explained, receiving a startled look from Chas.
“His nose?”
Missy jumped in. “We had a strange encounter with Mrs. Kingsman right before the candidates came in, and she ended up ruining part of the display that featured her husband…” She went over the incident in detail for the detective, his brow furrowing deeper by the second. He rubbed his forehead in a telltale gesture that let Missy know that something was bothering him.
“What is it, Chas?” she asked, alarmed.
“The fact that you had an altercation with the candidate’s wife shortly before his body was found in your van, rather complicates things,” he made a face like he needed an antacid.
“But we didn’t do anything,” Grayson protested. “Judge Kingsman was actually really nice to us both and complimented the display that looked like him. Maybe the security cameras picked that up,” he added hopefully.
“I’m sure the cameras picked up footage of the nastiness that happened with the Judge’s wife as well,” Chas sighed. “Well, you two can head on out, but the van is still being processed, and it’s going to be a long night for me, so I’ll have a patrolman take you home.”
“Uh…actually, can he just take us to the shop? Both of our cars are there, and if my mom sees me get dropped off by a police car, there’ll be hell to pay, especially if she’s been drinking,” Grayson requested, looking down at his shoes, his cheeks red.
Missy put a supportive hand on his shoulder, and the detective nodded.
“Of course,” he said quietly. “Not a problem,” he assured the embarrassed youth, raising a hand to beckon to a uniformed officer.
The mood inside the police car was somber as they made their way back to Missy’s Muffins and More. Missy had told Chas that the officers working the scene could snack on the leftover cupcakes that had been boxed up, and he simply nodded, not having the heart to tell her that they’d probably be collected and tested as potential evidence. When they were dropped off at the shop, the officer was kind enough to wait until they had hugged and were in their respective cars before pulling out of the back lot.
Chapter 6
Missy had done a lot of tossing and turning before finally dropping off into a fitful and nightmare-filled sleep in which she constantly seemed to be running away from someone…or something. Her phone buzzed insistently from its place on her night stand, taking a long time to penetrate her exhausted stupor.
“Hello?” she mumbled sleepily, trying to stifle a yawn.
“Well, well, well, Melissa Gladstone…looks like you’ve gotten yourself into quite the little pickle, now haven’t you?” the mayor’s voice sounded a bit sinister and was far too loud for the early hour at which he was calling.
Missy looked at her ancient radio alarm clock, saw that it was just after six and groaned inwardly. She always tried to be on her toes when dealing with Felton Chadwick, and after a sleepless night, she wasn’t at all prepared to deal with him, particularly before she’d had her coffee – at least a pot of it.
“Umm…pickle? What?” she tried to physically shake the cobwebs from her brain by literally moving her head back and forth.
“I find it very interesting that the Honorable Chester Kingsman’s body was found in your van,” Felton drawled.
“Interesting? No, it’s terrible…what an awful thing,” Missy yawned again, wondering what the mayor was getting at.
“You know, little lady, scandals like this that can ruin a person,” he said carefully.
“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, Felton. Everyone knows that you’re more than capable of beating your opponent fair and square. Clearly you’d never resort to such horrible measures to win an election,” she assured him, irritated that he had woken her up at such a ridiculous hour to talk about his reputation and campaign.
“You misunderstand me, Melissa…” he let the sentence hang for a moment, sounding like he was intentionally pausing for dramatic effect. “I’m not concerned about how this matter will affect me, my reputation is strong enough to weather almost any storm. My concern is how you’re going to handle it when your businesses fail and your neighbors start locking their doors and windows because all the townsfolk know is that one of their very own government officials was found dead in your van,” Felton finished, saying nothing more, letting it sink in.
“Felton Chadwick! How dare you insinuate that I had anything to do with this awful thing? You know me well enough by now to know that I couldn’t possibly be a part of what happened. I planned your daughter’s wedding for crying out loud!” Missy exclaimed, offended.
“Mmmhmm…and we all know how well that turned out,” was the snide reply.
“It’s not my fault that your precious Priscilla chose an art thief and a killer for her fiancé,” she shot back.
“Here’s what I know, young lady, and you listen good,” the mayor ordered, and she could just picture the pompous smile on his face as he gave her a long-winded directive. “Someone is to blame for what happened. Now, because of the adversarial nature of our political system, silly, uninformed folks might start pointing their finger in my direction, which would be an utter travesty,” Felton explained, as though talking to a child. “Because the body was found in your van, it seems to me that the shadow of doubt falls squarely on the shoulders of you and your dangerous-looking young assistant. I’m telling you this right now, Melissa Gladstone, if it comes down to a choice of either you or me taking the fall for this…most unfortunate occurrence, I guarantee you that I will be the last man standing, and you will fall. Am I making myself fairly clear?” he asked smugly.
“Did you do it?” Missy whispered, unable to help herself.
“I most certainly did not, and don’t you forget it,” Felton barked, his Southern accent heavy.
“I didn’t either, and neither did Grayson,” she said numbly.
“Don’t bore me with details, Melissa. Good day to you now,” he replied, hanging up with a quite cordial tone.
Chapter 7
Missy dragged herself out of bed, and went downstairs to start a pot of coffee, trying to work up enough strength to take Toffee, her gentle golden retriever, and Bitsy, her irrepressible malti-poo for a walk. She wanted to get to the LaChance shop early today, to check on Grayson, so after a three cups of strong, black coffee, she took “the girls” out for a walk, then came back and showered, finally feeling somewhat human again after getting dressed and tossing her blonde curls up into a messy bun.
“G’mornin,’ Cheryl,” the already-weary s
hop owner said, coming in the back door to the kitchen.
“Hey, Ms. G.,” her manager replied, looking at her with concern. “How’re you holding up?”
“I’m fine,” she waved dismissively. “Where’s Grayson?”
“I hope you don’t mind, but after he told me what happened last night, I sent him home. He hadn’t had any sleep and he looked just awful. I called Ben to ask if he could lend us Chris from Crème de la Cupcake, so he’s on his way to cover Grayson’s shift,” she explained.
“You did the right thing, honey,” Missy assured her. Chris was a friend of Ben’s from grad school who had been hired right around the same time as Cheryl. He’d been involved with Echo’s sister briefly, when she came out to visit from California, which had turned out to be a big mistake. The troubled young woman had him under her spell to the degree that she even managed to convince him to “temporarily borrow” some money from Missy’s cash register. When an infuriated Missy found out what had happened, she considered firing the lad, but having seen Echo’s sister in action, she decided to give him another chance, and had been nothing but happy with him ever since.
“I can’t even imagine how that poor, sensitive young man must’ve felt, finding that body,” she shuddered. “Can Chris stay all day?”
Cheryl shook her head. “No, he had been volunteering for Judge Kingsman’s campaign, and they’re having a meeting today to break the news to everyone. It’s just so awful. Why would someone do such a thing?”
“I wish I knew, darlin,’ I wish I knew,” Missy frowned.
“There was a policeman that came by here this morning, asking questions,” she confided, wrapping her arms around her middle.
“About what?” Missy asked, alarmed.
“Grayson, mostly,” Cheryl bit her lip, worried.
“Oh no…” Missy’s heart sunk.
“Yeahhh…” her manager replied, crestfallen.
Their conversation was interrupted by Chris coming in the back door. Having showered, dressed and left for the day, without even a glance at television or social media, he had no idea what had happened, and was shocked when Missy told him of the previous night’s events.