Pink Velvet Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 9 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) (3 page)

Missy
was awakened by the insistent buzzing of her cell phone on the nightstand next
to her. Picking it up, she noticed two things: one, that she had overslept
somehow and that it was now nearly 8:00, and two, that the caller was Echo. She
pressed the answer button and her friend launched into a conversation before
she could even summon the presence of mind to say hello.

“Oh
my goodness, Missy, you’ll never believe what happened. Donna is in trouble and
I’ve been making Sweet Cherry Cream with Cinnamon and Rice Milk since 4:00
a.m., but the police called and interrupted it. So, I think the batch will be
okay, but I’m really worried about Donna and I’m actually hoping that you might
have a staff member to spare who could help me out.”

One
of the most disconcerting things about dear Echo was that, when she was excited
or upset about something, she spoke in a never-ending stream of consciousness,
weaving in multiple subjects, emotions and ideas that often made it hard to keep
up. Now was definitely one of those instances. “Wait, slow down, girl,” Missy
sighed, trying desperately to wake up. “What happened to Donna, why did you
talk to the police, and of course you can have a staff member, I’ll just cover
for Chris and he can come help you out.”

“Okay,”
Echo made an effort to breathe in and out and concentrate on speaking clearly.
“I was up early making ice cream, and the police called me around 6:00 to tell
me that Donna had been detained and wouldn’t be in to work,” she explained.

“Oh
my goodness, what happened to Donna?” Missy asked, frowning with concern.

“Well,
the police wouldn’t tell me, but it seemed like it may have been something
serious,” her friend’s voice was grave.

“Okay,
I’ll see if Chas knows anything. In the meantime, are you going to be okay?
Chris’s shift at Crème de la Cupcake doesn’t end until 2:00, but I know you
open at 1:00, so I’ll send him over then. Traffic will have slowed down enough
for Ben and I to manage it alone at that point.”

“I’ll
be okay,” Echo assured her. “I just hope Donna can say the same.”

Missy
climbed out of bed and rubbed her eyes sleepily, glancing around when Toffee
didn’t immediately greet her with a sloppy kiss. Part of their morning routine
was that, as soon as Missy’s feet hit the floor, Toffee trotted over for her
morning dose of affection and attention. It was beyond strange that the dog
wasn’t even in the room. Padding down the stairs, Missy saw the golden staring
out the dining room window, head lowered.

“What’s
going on out there, girl,” she whispered, kneeling down beside the focused
animal and looking in the same direction. Something in the yard didn’t look
quite right, but Missy couldn’t quite put her finger on what it might be.
Slipping her feet into a pair of running shoes by the door, she went out to
take a look around the yard, and discovered that one of the bushes that was in
the area that Toffee had been staring at, had multiple broken branches, as
though something (or some
one
, her mind pointed out), had fallen into it.
Not knowing what else to do, Missy took a picture of the damage on her cell
phone, planning to ask Chas about it later. She made her way back across the
yard and into the house, where Toffee still stood at the window, fixated on the
bush. Taking the stairs two at a time because she was late, she went upstairs
to shower and dress, hating that she was running behind.

**

Detective
Richard Keller, of the Dellville PD, strode up to the front counter at Crème de
la Cupcake, and asked if he could speak with Missy, who led him through the
kitchen and back to her office, bearing two cupcakes and two mugs of fresh, hot
coffee.

“What
can I do for you today, Detective?” she asked pleasantly, handing him a
Buttered Rum cupcake and one of the mugs of coffee.

“I’m
here to ask you a few questions about Donna Chesman. Are you acquainted with
the young lady?” Keller asked, sipping his coffee.

“Oh yes,
she works across the street at Sweet Love. Echo, the owner, called me this
morning so that she could borrow a staff member because she said Donna was in
some sort of trouble,” Missy nodded sadly.

“Indeed
she is,” the detective remarked. “You were one of the judges in the high school
baking contest, is that correct?” Missy nodded. “Have you had contact with Miss
Chesman since the contest?”

“Yes.
I went across the street yesterday to bring her a cupcake, hoping to cheer her
up. I was also going to offer to pay her for her recipe, but I decided to wait,
because she was still terribly upset about the whole matter.”

“Upset?
What did she say that led you to believe that she was upset?” Keller probed,
taking notes.

“She
said that she thought Mrs. Dowler had it out for her, and she felt that her
life was ruined since she didn’t receive the scholarship to culinary school.
She also said some unkind things about her teacher that I’d just as soon not
repeat,” Missy admitted reluctantly.

“Miss
Gladstone, this is important…what did Donna say about Mrs. Dowler?” the
detective pressed further.

Missy
sighed. “She called her an old wretch and said that she wished that she would
just drop dead. She also said that she could take a flying leap. I felt that
she was being very disrespectful, but since I knew that she was so upset, I
didn’t chide her about it, I just changed the subject.”

“Have
you had any reason to think that you might be in danger recently?” he asked,
seemingly changing the subject.

“In
danger? Well, I’ve been hearing strange noises in the yard, and yesterday my
dog was downstairs in the morning staring out the window and some of my bushes
were broken, but I don’t necessarily think that I’m in danger, why do you ask?”
Missy’s heart beat a bit faster.

Keller
leaned forward slightly, as though he was about to divulge important
information. “Miss Gladstone, the reason that we detained Donna Chesman this
morning, is that Mrs. Dowler was found dead, with one of Miss Chesman’s cakes
and copies of the score sheets from the bake-off on the table in front of her.
We have reason to believe that you and Principal Sanders should take extra
precautions for the time being.”

Missy
gasped in horror. She didn’t know Donna well, but Echo did, and seemed to think
the world of her. Was it possible that an innocent-looking young girl had
perpetrated such a heinous crime? And if she had, was Missy next? “That’s
awful,” she replied, shaking her head in disbelief. “I saw her arguing with
Mrs. Dowler at the bake-off, but I really didn’t think that anything would come
of it. How did she die?”

“We
won’t know the answer to that until the results of the autopsy are in. Do you
have any idea what the argument was about?” Keller asked.

“No,
I was too far away to hear it, but their body language was definitely hostile.”

“I
see. Well, I think we’re done here for now, but if you think of anything else
that might be helpful, please call me immediately. And Miss Gladstone…try to be
very aware of your surroundings. We don’t have enough evidence yet to hold Miss
Chesman in jail, and until we do, you might be at risk,” the detective warned
her.

Missy
nodded numbly. The world had been such a safe, sane place until a few minutes
ago. Now she didn’t know which end was up or what to think. The thought that a
poor, disturbed teenager might have been lurking about in her yard chilled her
to the bone, she shuddered just thinking about it.

Missy
dressed with care, making sure that her simple, vanilla-colored designer dress
fit perfectly, her makeup was understated, but lovely, and no hair was out of
place. She was meeting Priscilla Chadwick, the mayor’s daughter, for the first
time, to begin the wedding planning process. The event was a year away, so it
seemed a bit over-the-top to be starting already, but Missy had graciously
accepted the young lady’s invitation to lunch so that they could get acquainted
and start things off on the right foot. The restaurant that Priscilla had
selected, knowing full well that her daddy, Mayor Felton Chadwick, was footing the
bill, was the most expensive French restaurant outside of New Orleans. Cher
Margeaux was known for its exquisite cuisine and extensive collection of fine
wines, and Missy was excited to sample the fare.

Glancing
at her watch, Missy paced back and forth in the well-appointed foyer of the
velvet-draped interior of Cher Margeaux. Priscilla was now 15 minutes late, and
had promised half an hour ago to be there in a few minutes.

“Perhaps
Mademoiselle would prefer to wait in the comfort of a booth,” the mustachioed
host suggested tactfully.

Missy
sighed, then made up her mind that, even if Priscilla Chadwick never showed,
the mayor was going to not only reimburse her for her meal in this fine
establishment, but also pay her an hourly rate for the time wasted while being
stood up by his daughter. “Yes, that would be lovely, thank you,” she attempted
to smile at the polite little man, and followed him into the chandeliered
dining room.

Once
seated, she ordered a glass of wine. The sublime vintage was worth every bit of
waiting and stress, and she found herself hoping that Priscilla wouldn’t make
it to the meeting after all. She ordered escargots for an appetizer, and
savored the tender morsels dripping with drawn garlic butter, mopping up the
excess with crusty slices of baguette. About halfway through her delightful
appetizer, she heard a rather loud, nasal voice complaining to the host.

“What
do you mean she started without me? How could you allow this, Claude? Wow, how
rude can you be,” the voice huffed indignantly.

Missy’s
fork stopped midway to her mouth when she saw a creature straight out of
Hollywood approaching her table, followed by a clearly apologetic host.
Priscilla Chadwick was dressed in yoga pants, a sequined sports bra, and a
fringed white leather jacket. Her heels were hot pink stilettos, and she
carried an ostrich bag that was larger than Missy’s carry-on luggage. Her long
blonde hair fell loosely about her shoulders, and she had so much makeup on
that she appeared faintly orange. She tossed her bag into the booth opposite
from where Missy sat, dumbfounded, and plopped onto the velvet seat.

“Look,”
she began, her valley-girl affectation grating on Missy’s nerves already. “I
have no idea why Daddy hired you, okay? I know exactly what I want, and I will
have no problem getting it. The only thing that makes this whole “wedding
planner thing” less of a nightmare is that now, I get to call all of the shots
and you have to do all of the work. So let’s get something straight here, old
lady, I tell you what to do and you do it, end of story. Got it?” the spoiled
socialite ended her opening tirade, examining her fake nails as though she were
terribly bored.

Missy
was quiet for a moment, trying to decide precisely how to respond, and jumped a
bit when a furry head popped out of Priscilla’s bag. The sweet little toy dog
had a pink bow in her fur, and her tongue hung out happily as she made her
appearance. Priscilla looked annoyed and pushed the poor creature back down
into the depths of the bag, zipping it shut. That action of careless disregard
for another living being decided Missy’s response. She had been inclined toward
graciously making the best of a bad situation by being polite until she could
tell the mayor that she couldn’t help his daughter, but after seeing the bratty
bride’s treatment of an adorable dog, she changed her mind and went in for a
full verbal assault.

Leaning
across the table a bit, she smiled sweetly and unleashed a torrent of truth in
Prissy Priscilla’s direction. “Young lady, let me tell you something,” Missy
began, her southern drawl deepening with her passion. “You may be accustomed to
treating people like dirt and never suffering the consequences of your behavior,
but I don’t work that way. You are 45 minutes late to a luncheon that
you
arranged – that is unacceptable. You have also been nothing but rude to me from
the minute you walked in the door – also unacceptable. Your attitude is ugly,
and your treatment of that poor, defenseless animal
in your purse
is
nothing short of appalling. As for the nature of our arrangement, I work for
your father, not you, and I don’t take orders from anyone, period. You will not
tell me what to do or how to do it, and I will not be your little whipping
girl, you’d just better understand that from the get-go darlin. And just one
more thing, baby girl, I am not old, I am mature, and that’s something you’re
going to have to work long and hard to be able to say. Now you can stay and
have lunch and a civilized conversation with me while we talk about your wedding,
or you can take your rude little attitude on out of here and come back to me
when you’ve learned how to be civil, it’s completely up to you,” Missy finished
calmly, picking up her wine and taking a sip.

Priscilla’s
mouth was an O of affronted shock. “You awful woman, just who do you think you
are?” she shrieked, drawing glances and raised eyebrows from other diners.

Missy
leaned further over the table, and said quietly, “I’m either your worst
nightmare or your best friend. That’s for you to decide.” She sat back, looking
at the infuriated young woman placidly.

“You’re
fired,” she spat, jumping up from the table. “And if you care so much about the
stupid dog, you can keep her,” she hissed through clenched teeth, throwing the
bag with the dog across the table at Missy, who deftly caught it, managing to
avoid the breakage of any glassware.

Missy
watched the horrific bride-to-be flounce haughtily from the restaurant, nauseated
at her treatment of the sweet little doggie in the ostrich bag.