Cupcakes and Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery (Book 5) (Frosted Love Mysteries) (4 page)

Missy
had thought that with the copious amount of adrenalin that she had coursing
through her, surely she’d never get to sleep, but eventually she did drift off
into a fitful, broken slumber, waking easily when Chas returned to the room
just as the sun was beginning to brighten the sky.

“Did
you find anything?” she asked, sitting up and pulling the covers closely around
her.

Beckett
nodded, looking exhausted. “Whoever vandalized your room certainly wasn’t a
professional. They left several sets of fingerprints, hairs, clothing fibers
and footprints. This could be the first major break in this case. If we can
somehow tie whoever did this to the murders of Raoul and the housekeeper, you
and I could be going home fairly soon.” He sat next to Missy on the bed, dark
circles under his eyes.

“Really?
Like how soon?”

“Well,
don’t get your hopes up just yet, we still have to run the prints and hope that
they’re a match for someone that’s in a database. That may not be as easy as it
sounds. The guys at the embassy know what they’re doing and they have access to
some of the most comprehensive databases in the world, so we’re in good hands.
Time and results will tell whether this is our lucky break,” he explained,
rubbing a hand over his eyes after he finished.

“So
the room is back to normal now?”

“Looks
like nothing ever happened,” he smiled.

“Thank
you, Chas.”

“Anytime,”
he squeezed her hand.

“You
must be so tired,” she observed, touching his cheek softly.

“I
could use a nap,” he admitted, yawning.

“Well,
I’m going to go back to my room if it’s safe, get dressed and order breakfast.
You can just come get me when you wake up,” she pulled the covers back and
headed for the door. Chas simply nodded and, kicking off his shoes, flopped
into bed.

 Missy
chuckled when she saw the first text of the morning from Cheryl.

“
Hi
Ms. G.! I just wanted to let you know that Grayson has a really good idea for
an Autumn treat that would be fun in October. It’s a red velvet cupcake with
cream cheese frosting, but he was saying that if we did some cool things with
like, slices of gum drop and a raspberry glaze, we could make them look like
bloodshot eyeballs. So we tried it and they came out so awesome! But I wanted
to warn you that one of the church knitting club ladies said that it was
distasteful, so you might hear about that later, sorry.
L
So
anyways, we sold out of eyeballs yesterday – they were a hit! Hope you’re not
mad. C.”

Missy
was incredibly relieved to see that her staff was bonding, business was
booming, and no major problems had arisen in her absence. In that regard, at
least, life was good. Now if Chas and his contact at the embassy could just
figure out who trashed her room and killed Raoul and the housekeeper, she’d be
able to breathe again.

She
immersed herself for the next few hours in a TV series on Netflix that was
political enough that she had to pay attention in order to keep up, which
turned out to be a perfect distraction from her current circumstances. She
looked at her watch when someone knocked on her door, surprised that the time
had flown by. She hadn’t even had lunch yet, and her stomach growled, letting
her know about it.

“We
may have a break in the case,” Chas announced when she opened the door,
brushing by her and heading for the couch.

“Really?”
Missy exclaimed, restraining her excitement a bit. “Was it from the
fingerprints that you took, or the autopsy results, or something else?”

“None
of the above, actually. I told you that Rinaldo, from the embassy, had a contact
inside the police department. His contact questioned one of the housekeepers
here and found out that Raoul may have been about to be promoted to management.”

“Umm…okay,
but I don’t understand what that has to do with anything,” Missy was confused.

“Raoul
wasn’t the only one under consideration for the position. There were a handful
of other staff members who had made the final cut, and they were supposed to
find out who earned the promotion the day after he was murdered. The
housekeeper, named Rosa, that our guy talked to said that there was one person
in particular who was Raoul’s main rival, and apparently the two were bitter
foes,” Beckett explained.

“Who
was it?” she sat forward.

“Remember
the first night that we went to the restaurant here at the resort and Raoul
bypassed the concierge, giving us the best table in the house?”

“Yes,
of course, that was a lovely evening,” she nodded.

“The
concierge, whose name is Miguel Garcia, is the one who was awarded the
promotion. He was Raoul’s rival, and he may have thought that the only way he
could move up in the world was by eliminating his primary competition. He gave
a very pointed statement to the police about the argument that you had with
Raoul on the beach, making it sound like you were mad enough to kill someone.”

“That’s
just ridiculous,” she shook her head, annoyed. “Yes, I was mad, but I reacted
completely appropriately, given the situation. I certainly didn’t give off a
homicidal air.”

“Of
course not, but who better to point the finger of blame at than an innocent
American woman whose word wouldn’t mean much in this macho culture?”

Missy
nodded, getting it. “That makes sense, I suppose. But if Miguel killed Raoul,
why would he also kill the housekeeper? Was she competing for the promotion
too?”

“No,
she wasn’t, but she may have witnessed him killing Raoul, or leaving his body
at the beach. Rinaldo’s contact in the police department is going to question
her today.”

“That
theory also doesn’t explain why he would’ve trashed my room. That just doesn’t
make sense,” she chewed her bottom lip, thinking.

“I
agree,” Chas nodded. “We should know more once the forensics results come
rolling in,” he assured her. “I’m starving, what would you like for lunch?”

Missy
thought about it for a moment, then answered with a sad, faraway look in her
eyes. “A cheeseburger, with ketchup. And fries. And a ridiculous slice of warm
apple pie with ice cream and caramel sauce on top.”

“I’m
with you on that one,” Chas grinned, picking up the room service menu. “Let’s
see what we can do about that.”

Room
service did an amazing job of preparing their all-American feast, and they ate
until they were stuffed, talking and laughing while they enjoyed the simple yet
decadent meal. After lunch, Chas left to meet Rinaldo at a private spot near the
beach where they could speak without being seen or heard, and Missy decided
that she had to get out of her room for a while at least, she was going
stir-crazy having to stay inside while in the midst of tropical paradise. The
rude staff members who gave her dirty looks would just have to deal with it.
She would hold her head high knowing that she had done nothing to deserve their
judgment and hostility. The embassy hadn’t yet managed to get the freeze on her
bank accounts lifted, but if she wanted to order anything, she could just
charge it to her room.

Determined
to enjoy the vacation that she had paid for, despite the circumstances, she
slipped into the lime green bikini that Chas had purchased for her, threw her
new tube of sunscreen, cell phone, a book, and a towel into her beach bag,
placed a floppy hat over the top of her messy bun, wrapped herself in a
swimsuit cover-up, and headed for the beach. The path between the main resort
and the beach was thick with lush vegetation, and the path was only wide enough
for two people to walk comfortably side by side. Missy kept herself oblivious
to curious and/or hostile onlookers as she walked through the resort, by
placing earbuds connected to an IPod, playing 80’s music in her ears and
tunelessly humming along as she headed to the beach path.

Thankfully,
she found that the resort was largely deserted at this time of day; most of the
tourists were off on adventures and wouldn’t be back to their rooms before
dinner. The air was cooler on the path to the beach – the dense plantings
providing ample shade, and the ocean breeze wafting through. Missy was about
halfway to the beach when the hair on the back of her neck stood up and she
shivered with a sudden chill. Removing one of her earbuds, she stopped walking
and listened, hearing nothing but a slight rustle in the foliage behind her.
Knowing that huge iguanas were commonplace, she shrugged off her fear, replaced
the earbud and kept going. Something that felt like a large bee stung her in
the back of the neck and when she tried to slap it away, she encountered
resistance, but didn’t have enough time to turn around and see its source
before the world faded to black.

“Senorita…senorita…wake
up please…” a kind voice warmed Missy’s ears as she swam in a murky sea of
half-sleep.

“Senorita…senorita…”
she heard again, trying desperately to open her eyes, but failing miserably,
and succumbing to the darkness once again.

“Missy?
Open your eyes for me, Missy,” Chas’s voice commanded gently. “C’mon now, I see
you waking up, I know you can hear me…open your eyes.”

Missy
lifted her heavy eyelids slowly, waking to a hospital room that was brightly
out of focus and a headache that pounded unbearably. “Ow,” she croaked, her
throat parched. A straw was held to her lips and she drank greedily, the cool
water a soothing balm to her throat.

“Better?”
Chas asked.

She
would have nodded, but feared the painful implications of such an act and
responded instead. “Mmhmm…what happened?” she rasped in a whisper.

“Apparently
you went for a walk on the beach and fell, hitting your head. You’ve been out
of it for a couple of days now,” he replied, laying a cool hand on her aching
forehead. His words brought the afternoon back to her in vivid and instant
recall.

“No,
I didn’t hit my head,” she mumbled. “I was stung. By a bee. Or a wasp. Or
something.”

Chas
leaned forward, his eyes intense. “You were stung by something? Where?”

“On
the back of my neck. It hurt,” she complained dully.

“I
know that this may be painful, but can you sit up a bit so that I can see the
back of your neck?” he asked, urgency in his voice.

“Of
course,” she agreed. “But you’re going to have to help me.”

Beckett
tenderly helped Missy move to a more upright sitting position, and brushed the
tangled blonde curls from the back of her neck, where she had told him she felt
the pain. His brow furrowed when he saw the spot that she had indicated, and he
quickly helped her back into a more comfortable position.

“I’m
going to tell the doctor that you’re awake now, so she’ll probably be in to
visit with you in a few minutes. Be sure to tell her about the…bee sting. I’m
going to leave for a bit, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Get some rest,
okay?” He kissed her on the cheek and headed for the door without waiting for
her response.

“Okay,”
she called after him, wondering why on earth he was in such a hurry.

Missy
slept on and off for the rest of the day, feeling drugged and lethargic. Chas
returned just in time to help her with a light dinner, and stayed to watch a TV
show on a tiny TV suspended from the ceiling. When he saw that her breathing
had become deep and even, he slipped out and went back to the resort. When he
reached the hall where he and Missy had their rooms, he noticed that her door
was slightly ajar. Not seeing any housekeeping carts around, he suspected the
worst, and pushed the door open quickly, astounded to see that none of Missy’s
possessions remained in the room. Every item, from her newly purchased
toothbrush and clothing to the cupcake ingredients in the kitchen was missing.
Chas whirled around when he heard footsteps behind him and faced off on Miguel
Garcia, the concierge whom he suspected of killing Raoul.

“Excuse
me sir,” Miguel said cordially. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I apologize for
your inconvenience. We have moved Senorita Gladstone’s belongings back into her
original room now that the police are done with their investigation. I hope
that is okay,” he smiled, guileless.

Chas
was baffled. Either this man was an incredible actor, or he’d had nothing to do
with two gruesome murders. “That’s fine, thank you. Do you have the new key
card?” Miguel handed him the key card, Beckett tipped him, and he went on his
way. The detective made a quick call to Rinaldo at the embassy, who agreed to
come to the resort to try and untangle the case. He arrived in Chas’s room
moments later and the two men puzzled over the facts.

“I’ve
got good news and I’ve got bad news,” Rinaldo announced when he and Chas sat
down at the small table in the suite’s kitchen.

Beckett
sighed, wishing it had been only good news. “Okay, let’s have it, bad news
first,” he replied.

“The
bad news is that Miguel Garcia isn’t our guy. I should’ve known, it was way too
easy,” he shook his head.

“Yeah,
I figured that out anyway. I just had a run-in with him, and he seems to be as
honest as the day is long. Didn’t fit the profile of someone ruthless enough to
commit murder just so he’d be next in line for a promotion,” Chas agreed. “So
what’s the good news?”

“It’s
quite a story so far, sit back, we might be here a while,” Rinaldo replied,
settling in. He relayed his findings to Chas, who, while relieved, was now more
puzzled than ever.