Buttercream Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 7 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) (2 page)

Missy and Grayson had tried a few flavors before coming up with what they felt to be the perfect combination for their very first Sweet Crème Sandwich, finally settling on a dark chocolate cupcake with a center layer of Echo’s Rainforest Coffee Cream topped with caramel, rich fudge and a dash of sea salt. They called it the Espresso Especiale, and gave one to each staff member, Echo, and Chas, to try. The result was unanimous approval, and they made huge batches for Friday’s expected rush. The Sweet Crème Sandwiches were more of a hit than they had anticipated, with both Missy and Echo selling out before noon. With the extra revenue generated by the slightly higher price of the treat, Missy ended up making as much from one day of sales as she had been making with a new Cupcake of the Day every day, so it looked like Sweet Crème Sandwich Fridays were going to be a permanent change for the better. She’d still do a new Cupcake of the Day once a week, and between the two weekly promotions, expected to see a hefty increase in profits.

After the initial rush on Friday, Missy left Ben and Chris to finish up for the afternoon, and headed for the kitchen to see what supplies she’d need to restock in order to keep up with the new demand. When she came into the kitchen, she was startled to see a man about her age in blue coveralls moving toward the back door.

“Oh! Excuse me, may I help you?” she asked, cautiously.

“Nope, just finished up. I brought your dry goods delivery in – you should be all set,” the man smiled, his hand on the doorknob.

Missy moved toward him slowly. “I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Melissa Gladstone, the owner here. Where is Carlos? He always brings in my order.”

“I’m Brice,” he pointed to the name embroidered on his coverall. “We had a major shipment that was mistakenly sent back yesterday, so now we have a boatload of customers who are not happy. Carlos is straightening that whole mess out, so I’m doing the deliveries today,” he explained easily.

“Oh, that’s awful, I’m sorry to hear that. Was my order affected?” Missy worried.

“Not at all ma’am, we made sure that you were squared away,” he assured her.

“Oh good,” she sighed with relief.

“You have a good day now, Miss Gladstone,” he raised his hand, opening the door.

“Thank you, Brice, you too.”

Ben came into the kitchen to let her know that they needed help up front because there was a line, and Missy immediately pitched in to help, staying busy right up until closing time. Leaving the guys to clean and lock up, she went back through the kitchen, spotting an invoice on a prep table. Picking it up, she was puzzled to see that it was her dry goods invoice, which on the bottom said “
Thank you for your business – Carlos
” as usual. Puzzled, she tucked the invoice into a drawer in the office and headed for the parking lot, making a mental note to give Carlos a call in the morning.

Missy’s entire weekend was so busy with orders and deliveries for holiday parties and planning for the upcoming week, that calling Carlos completely slipped her mind. She was helping Cheryl at the front counter of the LaChance shop, and was caught entirely off guard when she looked up and saw Chloe Beauregard standing in front of her.

“Chloe,” she smiled sweetly, despite her mild dislike for the high-maintenance socialite. “How are you? I heard about the burglary at the Plantation – it must’ve been awful for you.”

“Oh my goodness, Melissa, you have no idea the toll that this ordeal has taken on me and my family. Poor Mama had to go on retreat in France to recover,” she sighed dramatically.

“Well, it’s nice that she has that option. How are you holding up?” Missy asked, not wanting to seem uninterested.

“I tell you what, I’ve just been so very thankful for the handsome detective that’s been taking care of me this whole time.” She leaned closer to Missy to speak confidentially. “His name is Chas Beckett, and he’s a Yankee, but I have to tell you, the man is a fine example of a gentleman. Just between you and me, I think he might have taken a shine to me, and I don’t mind that at all,” she smirked and raised her eyebrows.

Missy’s heart plummeted to her knees, as the blood drained from her cheeks. Unable to form a coherent response to Chloe’s insinuation, she mechanically asked, “Soooo…what brings you in today?”

The socialite stepped back, surveying the impressive selection of cupcakes. “Well, normally I don’t indulge in such things, but I figure it’s allowed, considering the trauma I’ve been through. I checked with my trainer, and he promised to draw up a workout so that it won’t go to my waistline,” she ran her finely manicured hands over her perfectly flat tummy.

Missy’s cheeks flamed as she bit back a snide response. Plastering an entirely fake smile on her face, she suggested a cupcake that had the most ‘fat’ calories per bite in the entire shop. Somehow she managed to get through the rest of the transaction, though she’d be hard pressed to recount any further conversation, and moved through the rest of her day in a haze. Chas texted her on the drive home, inviting her to dinner, and after staring at the text with silent tears rolling down her face, she put down her phone without answering.

Avoiding someone who makes a living solving crimes was no mean feat, but Missy managed to elude Detective Chas Beckett for quite some time by changing up her normal routine, and keeping strange hours. Since she couldn’t sleep anyway, she did much of her baking late at night, sometimes into the wee hours of the morning. Her staff was puzzled by her behavior, but said nothing and accommodated her schedule. Deliveries went out on time, daily sales continued to increase, and Missy kept to herself, crying when no one was watching, working her fingers to the bone.  She had been intentionally avoiding Echo as well, knowing that her free-spirited and perceptive friend would have no qualms about giving her the third degree to determine what was wrong and how she could help. Missy was about to scoot out of the Dellville shop well before closing time when the text tone on her phone chimed.

“
Hey girl! Thanks for sending over today’s Sweet Crème Sandwich. I wanted to eat it, but another customer came in wanting one, so I sold it to her. Hey, did you know that Carlos is on leave? Donna said that some guy named Brice brought my Sweet Crème Sandwich over when he came in with the dry goods order. Anyhoo…I’d love it if you could stop by sometime soon – miss you! E.
”

Missy was puzzled. She hadn’t sent a Sweet Crème over for Echo, though she was a bit embarrassed to admit it. She asked Ben and Chris if they had, and they hadn’t either. Echo said that the new dry goods guy, Brice had brought it over, but Missy hadn’t seen him since the first time that he’d been in her kitchen. Worried, she dialed Carlos’s number at the supplier’s office and was sent to voicemail. Perplexed, she made a note to try to call Carlos again tomorrow if she hadn’t heard back from him. She headed to the LaChance store to make sure that Cheryl had everything she needed for closing, then drove home, dismayed to see Chas Beckett sitting on her front steps with Toffee. She knew that her car could be seen the moment that she had turned on to her street, so backing out to avoid him wasn’t an option. Sighing, she decided to suck it up and face him, her stomach turning somersaults at the thought.

Toffee charged over to the car as usual, not understanding why her favorite person wasn’t responding the way that she typically did. Missy led the loyal canine to the front porch where Chas was now standing, looking achingly handsome.

“Care to tell me why Toffee is the only female at this address who’s willing to give me attention these days?” he asked without preamble, his tone light, but his eyes serious.

“Maybe the rest of the females at this address figure that you have your hands full of female attention across town,” she responded tartly.

“What?” Beckett was befuddled. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” his eyes narrowed, trying to puzzle out what she was talking about.

Missy was exhausted from her strange hours and trying to hide her emotions at every moment, and made a split-second decision to just be brutally honest. “Chloe Beauregard came by the shop last week,” she said, exasperated when Chas didn’t react.

“And?” he asked, not understanding.

Missy put her hands on her hips, astonished that someone so intelligent was being so obtuse. “
And
she told me how incredibly helpful you were being in her time of need,” she tapped her foot, staring at him accusingly.

“That’s good,” he replied, blinking. “So why is it exactly that you’ve been avoiding me?” he asked, still not getting it.

She was frustrated beyond belief that he was actually going to make her say it. “Because she also told me that she thought that you had taken quite a shine to her,” she spat, tears beginning to well.

Chas’s eyes widened in astonishment. “What?? That’s utterly ridiculous. I’ve treated her with nothing but professionalism…Wait, do you mean to tell me that you believed her?”

Missy’s glare dimmed a bit. “Well, she seemed pretty darn sure of herself,” she pouted, crossing her arms and dropping her eyes.

Chas stepped forward and took Missy gently in his arms. “Wasn’t it you who told me just how manipulative she is? Don’t you think I’d recognize that? Besides…I don’t even notice other women. You’re the only woman I’m thinking of.” He tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him. “Trust me, someone like Chloe Beauregard can’t hold a candle to you, sweet Melissa.” He kissed her forehead, her nose, and each cheek, before finally, tenderly capturing her lips with his. “You have nothing to worry about from Chloe or anyone else…understand?” he whispered.

Tears flowing freely now, Missy nodded. “I should have known better. It’s just, I’ve been so busy, and I’ve missed you, and I’m working all these weird hours, which makes me so tired…” she babbled until he put a silencing finger to her lips.

“Shhh….I’m here, and you’re going to be okay. Let me take you to dinner?” he asked with a gentle smile. Missy nodded, and together they led Toffee into the house, locked the front door and headed for Chas’s car.

Now that things with her dashing detective were back on an even keel, Missy made sure to maintain a healthy balance of work and personal time, scaling her hours at the shops back a bit. Sweet Crème Sandwiches were such a hit that people from neighboring towns were coming in to try them, and the lines on Fridays often wound around the block. Missy had just recovered from dealing with one such rush when a well-dressed man approached her, carrying a briefcase.

“Melissa Gladstone?” he inquired politely.

“Yes, that’s me,” Missy answered with a sweet southern smile. “What can I do for you?”

“My name is Jonathan Michener, and I’d like to speak with you for a moment if I may,” he replied.

“Not a problem,” she indicated a seat at a nearby table. “Can I get you something? Coffee? A cupcake?”

“How about one of your famous Sweet Crème Sandwiches?” he grinned.

“Sure thing – I’ll be right back.”

Returning with two of the treats, because it just wasn’t polite to let a guest eat alone, Missy presented Mr. Michener with the Friday special Sweet Crème Sandwich – one of her Strawberry Dream Cupcakes, filled with Echo’s Lemon Chiffon Cream, topped with whipped vanilla icing and a fresh, plump strawberry.

“This looks delicious,” he exclaimed, taking a large bite. “Mmmm…mmhmm…” he nodded with pleasure, his mouth too full to speak. “Thank you so much,” he said, upon recovering from the bite. He held up the Sweet Crème Sandwich and looked at it reverently. “This,” he said, turning the treat from side to side, viewing it from multiple angles, “is why I am here.”

Missy was amused and puzzled. “Well, that’s why most of my customers drop by,” she joked, nibbling at the dessert.

Michener polished off the rest of his cupcake sandwich in three huge bites and finally explained his purpose for seeking Missy out. “I represent the Creamy Delight frozen treat company, and I was sent here specifically because one of my managers happened to be passing through Dellville and tried what she described as the best ice cream dessert that she had ever tasted.”

“Awww…well that was certainly sweet of her to say,” Missy smiled. “You wanted to try one so badly that you came out here from…where, exactly?”

“Our corporate offices in New York City. And while my curiosity was certainly piqued, I was sent for a specific purpose, Miss Gladstone,” he leaned forward.

“Which is?”

“Creamy Delight wants to replicate your Sweet Crème Sandwiches on a grand scale,” he announced proudly. “We would purchase your recipes and those of Ms. Willis across the street and mass produce them for nationwide distribution. Miss Gladstone, my company is fully prepared to make this deal more than worth your while. We would buy the rights to the name and use the story of how you started running your shops at a young age to promote the product. You may be headed for an early retirement if you wish,” he grinned broadly.

Missy was shocked. Creamy Delight was a household name, and she was amazed, not only that her little shop had come to their attention, but that somehow they seemed to know quite a bit about her. “Wow, that’s very flattering, Mr. Michener.”

“I’m glad you feel that way Miss Gladstone,” he rubbed his hands together happily and unsnapped his briefcase. “I just have a few documents for you to review and then we can proceed with the arrangements.”

“Umm…I think you misunderstand me. I’m flattered that your company took such an interest in my creations, but there’s no way in the world that I would agree to have them mass produced. Part of what makes them so good is the fact that each one is freshly hand-crafted and homemade. It’s just how we do things down here in the South,” she explained.

Michener placed his palms together, tenting his fingers under his chin and staring at Missy totally nonplussed. “I don’t think you understand just how much money we’re talking about here, Miss Gladstone,” he reiterated in a low voice.

“Actually, it doesn’t matter, Mr. Michener, money isn’t what drives me,” she shrugged in response.

“Oh don’t be naïve,” he snapped, losing patience. “You Southerners haven’t cornered the market on quality. I’ve spent my entire career working with Creamy Delight, and I can tell you, we know what the public wants and we give it to them by the gallon, to the tune of billions of dollars a year,” he huffed. “Everyone has a price, and if you’ll just give me the courtesy of reviewing these documents, I’m sure you’ll agree that we’ve more than met yours.”

“Everyone has a price? Well, if that’s the case, Mr. Michener, let me put this in language that you’ll understand…you can’t afford mine. Now perhaps you’ll show me the courtesy of seeing yourself out,” she stood, picked up their dessert plates and walked to the kitchen, leaving a frustrated Jonathan Michener in her wake.