Buttercream Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 7 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) (3 page)

Chas invited Missy to dinner that night and soon took her mind off of corporate takeovers with his charm and wit. The misunderstanding of his encounters with Chloe Beauregard was well behind them, and they’d moved past feeling awkward about it. The busy detective’s phone rang just before their coffee and dessert arrived and he sent the caller to voicemail, but when it rang again, he apologized, stepping outside to take the call. Missy had to forcibly will her mind to not jump to silly conclusions. She tried to convince herself that the call had to be related to his work, watching him pace outside with a stern look on his face. When he came back to the table, his face was grim.

“There’s trouble,” he proclaimed quietly, sitting down very close to her so that he wouldn’t be overheard. “We need to go to the police station immediately.”

“The police station?” she whispered, a bit frightened. “Why?”

“There’s been a murder.”

In the car on the way to the station, Chas told her that a middle-aged woman had died with a half-eaten Sweet Crème Sandwich in her hand. The cause of death had not yet been conclusively determined, but it appeared that she had been poisoned as a result of eating the Sweet Crème. Missy was horrified of course, but felt absolutely certain that there was no way one of her treats had been poisonous. She wanted to call Echo, but was informed that a patrol car had been dispatched to give her a ride to the station. Both of Missy’s shops as well as Sweet Love would have to be closed until the case was solved, effectively killing their holiday business. Missy was somewhat alarmed when Chas told her that, because of their relationship, she’d have to be interviewed by another detective, but relaxed when he let her know that he’d still be present for questioning, and actively working on the case.

When they arrived at the LaChance Police Department, Chas took Missy to a tiny conference room and seated her in a green plastic chair, asking if she wanted water or coffee. When she demurred, he left, promising to be back soon. She tried to distract herself by checking social media sites on her phone, but couldn’t focus, so she eventually gave up and sat quietly, waiting for Beckett to return. When he did come back, he was accompanied by a very tall man with a light blond crewcut and muscles for days, alongside a very pale and stressed Echo. He indicated the seat next to Missy for Echo, then seated himself across the table from the friends, the large man eclipsing the chair beside him.

“Missy, this is Detective James Rousseau. He’s going to ask you some questions,” Chas instructed, keeping his tone neutral.

Missy nodded at him and turned to Rousseau. “Hello, Detective,” she said quietly, receiving a curt nod in return. Echo sat, observing the exchange, her eyes wide. She’d been introduced to the detective earlier, garnering the same response.

“Ms. Gladstone, Ms. Willis, I have a few questions for you,” he began gruffly.

The next three hours consisted of Rousseau grilling them regarding enemies that they might have had, asking specific questions about their business practices, their employees, their habits and personal lives and a host of other questions designed to try to determine guilt or innocence. After his interrogation was complete, the drained and worried women were free to go, pending further investigation. Chas offered to give Echo a ride home, and the three piled wearily into his car.

“Chas, you don’t think that they believe we did this, do you?” Echo asked, frightened.

“Generally, in a murder investigation, the most obvious suspects are questioned first, and unfortunately, because of the presence of your product, you two are at the top of the list, but we’ll also be looking into the life of the victim – any enemies that she may have had, any recent altercations, that sort of thing.

“So, what should we do?” Missy asked numbly.

“For now, nothing. Catch up on your reading, take Toffee to the park, and decorate your house for the holidays. I’m sorry that your businesses are going to take a hit during the busy season for both of you, but that’s just how it has to be for now,” he advised.

They dropped Echo off and headed for Missy’s house, trying to puzzle out what had happened.

“The unfortunate thing is that we have so little to go on with this murder. She died at home, nothing was out of place, there were no signs of struggle, and, as far as we can tell, she had little drama in her life and kept to herself. Her daughter will be coming to town tomorrow to pick up her cats, and we’ll talk with her, but I don’t have much confidence that she’ll have anything of significance to say. It looks to me like a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Are there murderers who kill simply for the sake of killing?” Missy asked, horrified at the thought.

“Yes, but it’s rare. Usually there’s a personal issue involved,” Chas replied, sighing.

Missy was silent, realizing the implication of his words. In the absence of a personal motive, the obvious suspect remained the focus of the investigation. She knew that she had to find out what happened in order to clear her name and Echo’s, so despite Chas’s warning, she spent the rest of the ride home trying to think of people to talk with and clues to discover. Their hands were tied until the autopsy came back and proved or disproved that the woman had been poisoned, but there had to be something that she could do in the meantime.

Seemingly reading her thoughts, Chas directed, “Don’t even think about trying to get involved with the investigation. You need to just lay low and let me do my job, sweetie. Trust me?” he asked, giving her a pointed look.

“Of course,” she nodded, not deterred in the least.

Missy pondered and pondered who could have murdered an ordinary citizen who just wanted to be left alone with her garden, her books and her cats. It seemed such a shame that someone who had done no harm to anyone had been killed without rhyme or reason. She turned the situation over and over in her mind, frustrated at the lack of any sort of clue or direction. Deciding that some fresh air would do her good, she gathered a backpack filled with a water bottle, collapsible water dish, two tennis balls, and a baggie of treats, called Toffee and snapped on her leash, leading the exuberant animal outside. Perhaps a romp in the park would clear her head, giving her better ideas about the case.

They trotted down the sidewalk, heading to the park, and Missy’s phone rang from the cell pocket built into her jacket. Pulling it out, she failed to recognize the caller’s number, but decided to answer anyway. It turned out to be Jonathan Michener, calling both to apologize for his behavior the previous week, and to continue in his quest to gain Missy’s approval on a joint venture with Creamy Delight. Missy was polite but firm, and Michener’s frustration was once again evident by the end of the call. Shaking her head in disgust, she tucked her phone away in her pocket once more. Creamy Delight may well be the biggest ice cream supplier in the world, but that didn’t mean that Melissa Gladstone was going to be a pushover and give in to their demands. She fumed, thinking about the conversation and replaying it in her head, and suddenly, stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth dropping open with a shocking realization. Hands shaking, she pulled her phone back out and dialed Chas’s number.

“Chas, I think I know who the killer is!” Missy blurted out, upon hearing the detective’s deep voice on the line.

“Well, that didn’t take long,” he remarked dryly. “What are your thoughts?”

She recounted her somewhat hostile meeting with Jonathan Michener, and the subsequent phone call. Beckett listened intently, taking notes, occasionally stopping her to ask questions.

“Did he actually threaten you in any way?”

“Well, no, but he seemed very upset,” Missy insisted.

“I can understand how you might have reached your conclusion, but being upset isn’t against the law…” Chas said carefully.

“I know that,” she retorted. “But think about it…I have something that he wants, I said no to his supposedly generous offer, and he wants revenge. It makes sense.”

“Maybe. But why, if his goal was to buy out the Sweet Crème portion of your business, would he want to ruin your reputation and cause the public to think that your product is dangerous?” the detective countered reasonably.

“Because maybe he figured that if he ruined me financially and by reputation, that I’d have no choice but to give in to his demands and sign the papers. Creamy Delight could always change the name of the Sweet Crème Sandwiches and totally leave out any association between me and the product,” she explained patiently.

Beckett sighed. Missy could hear the tap, tap, tap of his pen on the desk as he mulled the situation over. “Okay,” he agreed finally. “I’ll do some checking, but in the meantime, since you think that Michener might be a dangerous character, I’d appreciate it if you’d avoid him at all costs – no phone conversations, no meetings, no communication, okay?”

Breathing a sigh of relief now that the detective finally trusted her instincts, Missy agreed not to have contact with Jonathan Michener until further notice. She hung up feeling much better knowing that Chas was chasing down a probable lead, and spent the next couple of hours wearing out her furry best friend with a rollicking game of fetch. She had just mounted the steps to her front porch, happily tired, when her phone rang again. Seeing Echo’s number, she picked up and heard her friend’s hysterical voice before she could even say hello.

“Oh my gosh, Missy, the blood…it’s so terrible. I can’t stand it, I can’t stand it…” Echo babbled incoherently.

Missy’s heart pounded at her words. “Blood? What? Echo, slow down, honey. Tell me what’s going on. Where are you? What’s happening?” It sounded like the phone was dropped at that point, and she heard her friend moaning and sobbing in the background. “Echo? Echo, can you hear me? What’s happening, honey?” she asked frantically.

A male voice came on the line. “Miss Gladstone, I presume?”

Heart in her throat, Missy responded boldly, her protective instincts rising within her. “Yes, this is Melissa Gladstone. Who are you and just what is going on?” she demanded, fearing for her friend’s safety.

“This is Detective Richard Keller of the Dellville PD,” he responded professionally. “Your friend has had a bit of a scare, but she’s unharmed. She’d like you to come out and keep her company for a while if it’s not too much trouble.”

The adrenalin coursing through Missy’s body made her more suspicious than usual, and the man’s request sent off alarm bells. “How do I know that you are who you say you are? For all I know, you could be holding Echo hostage and setting a trap for me as well,” she challenged, before thinking.

The detective sighed. “Look, do I need to have Chas Beckett call and verify my identity?” he asked, impatient but understanding.

The mention of Chas’s name provided some measure of relief. “No, of course not. Just give the phone back to Echo so that I can talk to her.” More sounds of fumbling, then Missy heard sniffles and hiccups on the line.

“Echo, honey, are you okay?” she asked again.

“Mmhmm…” her friend responded. “Can you please…come down and…have tea…with me?” she asked pitifully, her breath hitching.

“Of course I will, you just hang on. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Missy dashed up the porch steps, staying in the house only long enough to grab her car keys. She wanted to take Toffee with her because her warm, loving presence brought such comfort, so she opened the back door and the delighted canine hopped into the car. Taking back roads in order to get to Dellville faster, Missy sped to Echo’s eclectic home, scared and curious. Her friend met her with an embrace at the door, her face ravaged by tears. Missy wrapped an arm around her waist and helped the distraught woman back into the house. Settling Echo on the couch and insisting that she stay there while she went to the kitchen to put the teakettle on, Missy surveyed the house subtly. There didn’t seem to be anything out of place, which made her wonder what on earth had happened to prompt such a dramatic response in her typically laid-back friend. She came back to the couch with two steaming mugs of lavender tea, hoping that the brew would help Echo to relax, and settled down next to her.

“Tell me what’s going on, sugar,” she prompted gently as Echo wrapped her hands gratefully around the mug.

“Oh Missy, it was awful. I know that our shops have to stay closed until this whole thing gets settled, but I just wanted to go create something, you know? I thought that I could go in there, maybe develop some new flavors, and just take them home to put in my freezer so that we could have a little treat on occasion.”

“Sure, that makes sense,” she nodded supportively, sipping her tea.

Echo continued. “So I went to the shop and unlocked the back door, and it smelled awful. I flipped on the light and saw that the entire kitchen floor had been covered with blood. Missy, I’ve been vegan my entire life, and when I saw all that blood, I just fainted dead away,” she shuddered at the memory.

Horrified, Missy’s hands unconsciously went to her throat. “Echo, that’s awful! Where did the blood come from?”

“I have no idea, there was no body found,” she shook her head. “Detective Keller and the police are there now, taking samples. They said that they’ll let me know when I can call a company to come in and do cleanup. I’m going to have nightmares for a very long time,” her eyes welled with tears, remembering the heinous sight.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry…do you want me to stay here tonight?” she asked, as Toffee wandered over, placed her furry head in Echo’s lap and looked up at her with soulful brown eyes.

“I’d really appreciate it,” Echo nodded. The two sat up talking until the wee hours of the morning, and when the traumatized woman trailed down the hall on her way to bed, Missy texted Chas, briefing him on what had happened, knowing he’d get the message upon waking.