Cupcakes and Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery (Book 5) (Frosted Love Mysteries) (3 page)

Missy
went back and forth from the refrigerator to the cabinet, taking stock of the
supplies that she and Chas brought back from the quaint little grocery store
that they had found in a small village close to the resort. Out of the corner
of her eye, she spotted the bottle of guava tequila that she had purchased at
Casa Mission, and had an idea for her first cupcake. She could add the tequila
to the batter, which would give the cakes an exotic fruit flavor and turn them
a delightful shade of pink. There was no need to worry about the alcohol content;
it would disappear when exposed to the heat of the oven. Picking up a large
shard of fresh coconut, she had an inspiration for the frosting and went to
work, measuring, stirring, baking, cooling and frosting. Her room smelled
heavenly, and when she sampled her Tropical Guava Cupcake with Coconut
Buttercream, the result was fantastic. A housekeeper came in just as Missy
finished arranging the cakes on a plate, and, although she didn’t speak
English, she made Missy understand that her creations both looked and smelled
wonderful. In an impulsive gesture, she presented the entire platter to the
housekeeper, who thanked her profusely in Spanish. Feeling a bit better after having
a positive human interaction, Missy got busy on her next creation, losing
herself in the comfortably familiar world of baking.

“What
did you find out?” Missy asked eagerly when she met Chas for lunch, ignoring
the cold glances from some of the servers in the restaurant.

“Not
much, unfortunately. I’ve talked to some of the guests who saw your argument
with Raoul on the beach, and most of them said that they didn’t see what he
allegedly did, only your reaction to it,” he grimaced.

“What
about the staff members? Are you having any luck there?”

“Not
yet. There are a few more people that I want to speak with, but the attitudes
I’ve encountered so far aren’t encouraging.”

“What
do you mean? What attitudes?” Missy worried.

“The
culture is very different here. The men are known for ‘innocent misbehavior.’
It’s to be expected and accepted. Women are supposed to be flattered and coy
about it,” he shook his head, frustrated.

“Boys
will be boys,” Missy intoned dully.

“Exactly,”
Chas sighed. “But don’t worry about it, I’ll find something to go on, it’s just
a matter of time,” he assured her. “How was your day?”

Missy
filled him in on her pleasant experience with the housekeeper, and the exciting
new flavor combination that she had used, trying to sound enthusiastic, despite
her preoccupation with trying to figure out who could’ve killed Raoul. After
lunch, Chas walked her back to her room, eager to get on with his
investigation. He had to be very careful to remain outside of the notice of the
Cozumel Police because he hadn’t told them that he was an American detective.
Taking Missy’s key from her, he tapped the auto-lock with it and the door
clicked open. Missy stepped inside, turning back to Chas to thank him for
lunch, and what he saw on her patio caused him to pull her back into the
hallway, shutting the door firmly behind her.

“Chas…what
is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed.

He
swallowed hard before responding. “There’s a body on your patio.” Missy’s knees
shook as he opened the door to his room, leading her inside while he called
Detective Gonzales. She was questioned at length again, this time in the more
comfortable confines of Chas’s room, and was once again subjected to the
suspicious glares of the Mexican authorities.

“This
one has me baffled,” Chas admitted, shaking his head. “Apparently the woman who
was killed was one of the housekeepers.”

A
cold shiver ran down Missy’s spine. “What did she look like?” she asked,
dreading the answer.

Chas
described the woman, and Missy knew instinctively that it had been the sweet
housekeeper that she had given the cupcakes to. “Yeah, and unfortunately, she
was clutching a pink cupcake with white frosting in her hand,” he commented
glumly.

“So,
they think that I…” she couldn’t even finish her sentence, tears filling her eyes.

“They’re
suspecting poison, but we won’t know until the autopsy reports get back.”

Missy
suddenly had a horrifying thought. “Oh no, Chas! What if something was wrong
with the tequila? What if I did accidentally poison her?” she whispered.

Beckett
only paused for a brief moment. “Impossible.”

“Why?
What makes you so sure?” she asked, desperate.

“Because
you taste-tested them before she ever came into the room, right? Did you eat an
entire cupcake?”

“Two
actually,” she admitted. “They were really tasty.”

“Well,
if the tequila had gone bad, you would’ve died long before she did. I don’t
even know if it’s possible for tequila to go bad,” he mused.

“Okay,
you’re right. Good,” she replied, sighing with relief. “But if she wasn’t
poisoned, how did she die?”

“I
didn’t say she wasn’t poisoned, I said that we won’t know until the autopsy
comes back,” he reminded her gently.

“When
will that be?”

“Hard
to say…could be weeks,” Chas sighed.

“Weeks?
It can’t be weeks! I have two businesses to run, I can’t just sit around here
waiting on a report and miss the beginning of the holiday baking season!” she
wailed, distraught.

“Don’t
worry,” he squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll see what I can do. I have some friends
at the embassy here – they may be able to help.

Missy
wasn’t allowed to return to her room until the forensics team was done with
their investigation, so the hotel graciously provided her with another room,
right next door to Beckett’s. She had no access to any of her clothing,
toiletries or baking supplies, so she went to the convenience center in the
lobby to purchase some basic essentials like a couple of outfits, a swim suit,
tooth brush, hair brush and a charger for her phone. Piling her items on the
counter, she noticed that the American woman behind the counter treated her
quite coldly, and surmised that she must’ve heard about Missy’s alleged
involvement with her dead coworker.

“Your
card is declined,” the woman said, handing it back to her.

“But,
that’s impossible,” Missy replied. “Could you please try it again?”

The
cashier looked at the card like it was a snake, sighed, made a face and
snatched it rudely out of Missy’s hand, swiping it through the reader again.

“Declined,”
she repeated flatly, giving Missy a dirty look and tossing the card on the
counter in front of her.

“There
must be some mistake,” Missy mumbled, embarrassed and pulled out another card,
handing it to the rude clerk. Declined. And another card. Declined. Grabbing
all three cards from the counter and ducking out of the convenience center in
shame, Missy went back to her new room that was entirely devoid of any of her
possessions and collapsed crying, on the bed. All she wanted was to be at home
in her own bed, with Toffee at her side.

Chas
went down to the convenience center and purchased all of the items that Missy
had selected after finding out that all of her assets had been frozen pending
further investigation of her involvement in the murders of Raoul and the
housekeeper. He also replenished her baking supplies, thinking that the
distraction of making cupcakes would be good for her. The rude clerk wasn’t on
duty by the time he got there, and Missy burst into tears again when he brought
his purchases to her room, grateful that he was being so thoughtful. He held
her and smoothed her hair, assuring her that everything would be alright,
hoping desperately that he was telling her the truth. If she were incarcerated
by Mexican authorities, extradition would be extremely difficult.

Chas
left early the next morning to track down some of the hotel staff with whom he
hadn’t spoken yet, and to pay a visit to the American embassy. Missy was at a
loss. She couldn’t leave the resort, and didn’t want to show her face in any of
the public areas after the treatment she’d received from some of the staff, so
she was basically confined to her room. She looked over the ingredients that
Chas had purchased for her, and, although she didn’t feel remotely creative and
had no desire to bake, her alternatives were limited, so she sat down at the
small table in the kitchen trying to focus on how to bring some tropical
excitement to LaChance, Louisiana. Just the thought of her sweet hometown
brought tears to her eyes, so she dove into the creative process, choosing not
to dwell on things that made her cry.

Her
baking tools were as limited as her ingredients, so she began her newest
creation by zesting a lime with a fork and folding it into her batter with lime
juice. The cupcake she was inventing was called Margarita Madness, and would be
a light green cake with Vanilla Bean frosting and just the slightest sprinkle
of salt. She went to work on the cupcakes in earnest and was happily surprised
that when she was focused on her baking, she either forgot about her troubles
with Mexican law enforcement entirely, or had great clarity in thought when
trying to figure out the details of the case.

By
the time that she was finished baking, frosting and arranging the delicious
cakes on a plate, she was convinced that Raoul was probably killed by someone
with whom he had flirted too aggressively. She also thought that there was a
possibility that he may have used his connections in the community and with the
resort to engage in some sort of illegal trade, and perhaps that’s what got him
killed. In any case, it was preposterous to believe that she was even capable
of such a thing. Feeling much more confident about her position in the case,
she set the plate of cupcakes down in the center of her little table, licking a
stray bit of frosting from her thumb.

Her thumb
was still in her mouth, and she was crunching a salt crystal between her teeth,
when she heard a commotion out in the hall. Opening her door, she was surprised
and more than a bit alarmed to see Chas surrounded by Detective Gonzales, his
partner and the two uniformed cops that had been present last time. He was
arguing forcefully with Gonzales, and though Missy couldn’t understand what was
being said, she knew that it didn’t bode well. Gonzales tried to grab Chas’s
arm, and the American detective shook him off impatiently, chastising him in
Spanish.

“Chas…what’s
going on?” Missy asked softly.

He
noticed her for the first time, glancing at her over the detective’s shoulder.
“Nothing to worry about, Missy. It seems that since they can’t find concrete
evidence to arrest you, they’re looking in my direction now,” he frowned at
Gonzales. “I’m going to the station with them to answer some questions. Go
ahead and order some room service for dinner, and I’ll come see you when I’m
done.”

“Okay,”
she nodded miserably, so sorry that Chas had gotten dragged into this mess.

Missy
pushed her delicious dinner around on her plate, completely devoid of appetite
while she waited for Chas to return. She had no idea what she’d do if they
actually arrested him and put him in jail. She’d be alone in a country where
she didn’t speak the language with no clue as to how to help her boyfriend or
herself. “I’m never going on vacation again,” she vowed to herself, lower lip
trembling. She turned on the TV, finding an American sitcom that she couldn’t
even begin to pay attention to, but somehow she found the background noise
comforting. After a couple of hours that seemed like years, there was a brief
knock on her door, and she opened it, throwing herself into Chas’s arms,
profoundly relieved to see him.

“What
happened?” she asked, wide-eyed, as he closed the door behind them.

“Well,
they were incredibly frustrated that you and I clearly aren’t guilty, but
apparently, since they have no other leads to go on, we’re still under the
microscope,” he shook his head grimly.

“So
what happens now?”

“Now,
we stay put. I talked to an advisor at the embassy, and not only is he going to
lean on the coroner to get him a copy of the autopsy as soon as possible, but
he has a guy on the inside that told him some of the particulars of the case,
and it’s shaky at best, but sometimes the lack of evidence doesn’t really
matter down here. I want to avoid having either one of us ending up in a
Mexican prison.”

“Do
you think that’s a possibility?” Missy was terrified.

“Well,
now that the embassy has been made aware of the situation, it’s less of a
possibility, but we can’t be too careful. I spoke to some hotel employees that
had interesting tales to tell about Raoul, so I’ll be following up on that.”

“What
can I do?” she asked, determined. “I feel so helpless, and it makes me mad!”

Chas
smiled at her affectionately. “Well, while I completely understand your
frustration, the best thing you can do to help our cause at the moment is to
lay low and let me see what I can uncover. Hey, did you order any dinner for
me?” he asked, changing the subject.

“No,
I didn’t know when…or if…you’d be back, but I’ll call in and get you something
now,” Missy offered.

“That
sounds great. I’ll have a bite to eat, followed by one of your delicious
cupcakes, and we’ll go for a walk on the beach, how does that sound?”

“Perfect,”
Missy smiled, looking forward to his company and a quiet evening. His report
had made her feel much better, but she was careful not to get her hopes up too
high. They managed to slip out for a quiet walk on the beach, enjoying the
moonlight and warm water without having to endure the cold gazes of the staff.
As much as she loved the beauty, sights, sounds, tastes and wonderful weather,
Missy was ready to get home and back to business.

Chas
dropped Missy off at her room shortly after 10:00, letting her know to knock on
his door when she was ready for breakfast the next morning. She sank down onto
her pillowy bed, exhausted, but at least a bit more relaxed than she had been.
Something about being in Chas’s company had a soothing effect on her. He always
seemed to know exactly what to say and do to make her feel better. She drew a
bath in the large jetted tub, and turned the built in radio to a smooth jazz
station. Sinking into the water, letting the bubbles ease the tension from her
body, she sighed with relief, and leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

She
started getting sleepy after about half and hour and hit the button to turn the
jets off, pulling the plug to let the water out. She jumped in surprise while
she was toweling off, hearing a thud outside the bathroom door. She froze in
place, listening, grateful that she had locked the door behind herself, despite
the fact that she was the room’s only occupant. The thud she had heard first,
was followed in rapid succession by a series of softer thunks against the door
and walls of the room. Having no clue as to the source of the strange sounds,
she finished drying herself off, taking care to make no noises whatsoever,
despite the fact that the tub was gurgling as it emptied, and soft jazz still
spewed gently from the speakers in the bathroom.

Setting
the towel carefully on the counter, she put on her light summer pajamas and
tiptoed silently to the door. Nearly jumping out of her skin, she put a finger
in her mouth and bit down on it to keep from screaming when the doorknob
started moving back and forth like someone was trying to get in. When whoever
it was figured out that the door was locked, there was a slam on the door that
sounded like an open palm had slapped it in frustration, causing Missy to jump
away in alarm. Heart pounding in her chest and tears filling her eyes, she
tried to control her breathing, listening for whatever the stranger outside her
door might do next. She heard a sound that she couldn’t identify, and then
silence. Cursing herself for not bringing her cell phone into the bathroom with
her, Missy slid to the floor, with her back against the wall furthest from the
door and hugged her knees, listening.

Missy
had no idea how long she sat, straining to hear any sort of sound before she
finally worked up the courage to open the bathroom door a crack to see if it
was safe to come out. First, she peered under the door, looking for feet or
shadows in the dimly lit room beyond, and seeing none, she silently turned the
tab that unlocked the door. She listened after unlocking the door, her heart in
her throat, but heard nothing. Slowly turning the doorknob and wincing when it
creaked, she pulled the door inward slightly, putting her eye to the sliver of
space that she had opened, seeing nothing. Taking a deep breath and deciding
that, for better or worse, she had to come out and face whoever might be
lurking in her room, she flung the door open the rest of the way, her eyes
darting back and forth.

Whoever
had tried to open the bathroom door was gone, but they had left a path of
destruction in their wake. The Margarita Madness cupcakes that she made had
been thrown, with apparently high velocity, against the bathroom door and the
walls surrounding it. The few items of clothing that Chas had purchased were
thrown about, and a package of flour from the kitchen had been opened and flung
all over the room. Missy’s purse had been emptied in the middle of the floor, but
it looked as though nothing had been taken. She found her cell phone unharmed,
tucked safely into the side of the couch where it had slipped out of her pocket
earlier in the afternoon, and called Chas, explaining breathlessly what had
just happened. The concerned detective told her not to touch anything, and that
he’d be right over. He instructed her to open the front door with a towel,
touching the knob as little as possible. Once inside, he led Missy back to his
room, leaving her door open a crack so that he could get back in without
touching it.

He
took her by the shoulders, demanding her attention so that she wouldn’t allow
the silent tears that were falling to turn into hysteria. “Listen to me, Missy,
you’re going to be okay. Go wash your face, have a drink from the mini bar and
crawl into bed. I’ll take care of what happened to your room,” he assured her.

“But,
Chas, shouldn’t we call the police?” she asked, her voice tremulous.

“Normally
we would, yes, but in this situation, no. Gonzales and his crew would just see
it as a smokescreen and think you were trying to play the victim in order to
gain sympathy. I called my contact at the embassy before I came over to get
you. He has a forensics guy who’ll be here any second to take fingerprints,
gather any evidence that he can and see if he can figure out what happened and
why. I’ll be right there with him, and my cell phone will be in my pocket.
You’re perfectly safe here, but if you need anything, all you have to do is
call, okay?” he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

“Okay,”
she nodded, still looking worried, but knowing that she really had no choice.
Chas kissed her, closed his door softly behind her, and returned to the scene
of the crime, pleased to see that his embassy contact and the forensics
specialist had arrived. They had even brought cleaning supplies with them so
that they could take care of the mess after they had gathered all possible
evidence. Chas sighed – it was going to be a long night.