Rum Cake Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 8 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) (4 page)

“According to this, a Dr. Bernard Radcliffe Aston is alleging that a representative of your company, namely, Ben, gave his vegan, celiac daughter a normal cupcake during the children’s party at the hotel, which resulted in a reaction so severe that it necessitated a hospital stay,” Chas said, scanning the stack of legal documents. “He’s suing Ben, you as a person, and you as a business owner, for the cost of the hospital stay and damages. He’s also alleging that you are a danger to the community, and is asking for punitive damages which include both of your stores being closed down.”

The color drained from Missy’s face and she swayed on her feet. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, shocked. “We’d never hurt anyone, much less a child. Ben had nothing to do with the cupcakes. He didn’t give any out, he was too busy making balloon animals and singing funny songs. If anyone is to blame, it’s me, but I’m certain that I didn’t give any regular cupcakes out to a child with warning wristbands on,” she fretted, tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked up at the detective in utter terror. “Chas…I could lose…everything.”

“Not to mention the fact that this lawsuit is going to cast an even more negative light upon Ben. First he’s suspected of murder, and now, he may be held accountable for physical damage done to a child,” Beckett said grimly.

“What are we going to do?” she cried plaintively.

“It’s time to talk with an attorney.”

**

Missy dialed Loretta Christianson’s number, thinking that, because her husband was an attorney, she’d surely know who to call for someone in her situation.

“Loretta speaking,” the organizer sang out upon answering her phone.

“Hi Loretta, it’s Missy Gladstone. I hate to bother you but…” Missy began, only to be rudely cut off.

“I have nothing to say to you, Melissa. I trusted you with the health and well-being of innocent young children, and your incompetence endangered one of those precious young lives. I’m glad my husband is the one suing you, you should be ashamed of yourself,” she accused, hanging up before Missy could even get a word in edgewise.

When she heard the click of Loretta hanging up, Missy looked at her phone in dismay. Not only was she being unfairly accused, but in a town the size of LaChance, having an enemy as powerful as Loretta Christianson could be financially devastating as well as socially uncomfortable. Stomach churning with fear and shame, Missy laid her head down on her kitchen table and cried. Dear, gentle Toffee came over and put her head on Missy’s knee, entirely unsurprised when her best friend slid down to the floor and buried a tear-stained face into her coat.

Missy had been avoiding Cheryl because she didn’t know what to say to her, and couldn’t shake the thought that the sweet-seeming girl may very well have killed her stepfather, but when she received a text from her that said “
911, please call me at the shop,
” she knew she had no choice but to respond.

“Hi Cheryl, it’s Missy. What’s going on?”

The young woman sounded panicked and spoke in a low voice. “Is there any way that you can come into the shop? I’ve had people calling me all morning to cancel their delivery and party orders. I have no idea what’s going on, and none of them will tell me why they’re cancelling. I don’t know what’s happening, or what to do.”

Missy sighed, guessing that Loretta Christianson had been on the warpath, convincing the many friends that she had in various businesses, churches and organizations that Missy’s cupcakes were not to be trusted. “Okay Cheryl, I’ll be over there in a few, just make a stack of the requests to cancel, and I’ll call them back to see what I can find out,” she directed.

Missy was numb. The LaChance shop had been started by her parents decades ago, and passed on to her after their tragic deaths when she was just seventeen. Baking for a living was the only life she’d ever known, and the thought of her beloved shops closing filled her with an unspeakable dread. She had to fight the lawsuit. One way or another, the truth had to set her free. She couldn’t fathom any other option.

Going directly to her office off of the kitchen in the back of the shop, Missy did her best to avoid Cheryl, her greeting to the bewildered girl polite but short. Grayson and Cheryl exchanged a puzzled look at the owner’s cool indifference, but shrugged it off and kept working. Most of the patrons who had cancelled didn’t answer Missy’s calls, but the ones who did gave vague excuses and got off the phone as soon as possible. Some of them seemed quite cold to her, and after dealing with so many people who were just shy of being rude, she leaned her head in her hand and dumped the rest of the cancellation requests in the trash.

Feeling as though her world was falling apart, she gathered her purse and stood to leave. A soft knock on her doorframe caused her to turn.

“Ms. G., is everything okay?” Cheryl asked quietly, concern written over her features.

“No, actually, nothing is okay, but I’m dealing with it the best way that I know how,” Missy snapped, immediately ashamed of her tone.

“It’s about me, isn’t it? It’s because they think that I killed Stanley,” she mumbled, embarrassed. “You don’t think that I did it, do you?” she asked pitifully.

Missy eyed her sadly for a long moment before responding.

“Anymore, I have no idea what to think,” she said tiredly, brushing past the miserable girl. “You can let Grayson close up by himself if you need to go home. I don’t think we’re going to be getting much business for a while,” she tossed over her shoulder, heading out the door. When Ben called a few minutes later, asking if Chris could close up the Dellville store so that he could drive over and give Cheryl a ride home, she felt a twinge of conscience, knowing that the poor girl had probably fallen apart after she left. Taking the guilt over her treatment of Cheryl out on Ben, she told him that he needed to make sure that everything at the Dellville store was taken care of before he picked up his distraught former fiancé, knowing full well that he would never consider leaving his work undone. He sounded hurt when he hung up, making Missy feel like a first-class heel, but she allowed her frustration to convince her that she didn’t care, she was just being the boss.

Driving home, Missy felt her fear and frustration building within her to the point where she felt like she just might explode. Charging up the back porch steps, she ran up to her bedroom and changed into exercise wear. Toffee, who had been at her heels from the moment that she came in, wagged her tail excitedly when Missy jogged back downstairs and snapped the leash onto her collar. Taking the usual backpack of items, dog and owner headed to the park. Missy could walk, run and toss her frustrations about, and Toffee would joyfully be on the receiving end of it. The two ran and played hard for over an hour, then headed home for dinner.

After a long, hot shower, Missy made a simple meal of red beans and rice with slices of spicy andouille, and curled up on the couch to find escape in a movie. The text tone on her phone pinged and she picked it up, seeing a message from Chas.

“
There’s been an accident. I’m five minutes away from your house and will pick you up.
”

Missy couldn’t imagine what kind of accident Chas might be talking about, but accidents in general were never good, so her heart rate accelerated a bit as she reached for her shoes. She ran a quick brush through her hair, and heard Toffee enthusiastically greeting the handsome detective. She practically flew down the stairs.

“What accident? What happened?” she asked breathlessly.

“Ben lost control of his car and it went over an embankment. He and Cheryl are in the hospital. She’s conscious, but is pretty shaken up, and Ben…” he hesitated.

“Ben what? What about Ben?” Missy panicked, grabbing Beckett’s arm.

“He has a head injury and hasn’t regained consciousness yet,” the detective broke the news to her as gently as possible.

Her hands went to her throat as tears welled. “Oh my goodness, Chas, is he going to be okay?” she whispered.

“I don’t know, sweetie. I wish I did,” he pulled her into a brief embrace, then led her out the door.

Cheryl was being questioned by a police officer when they arrived, and would be allowed to go home with bandages and pain meds as soon as they were finished. Ben was in intensive care, and couldn’t have any visitors as yet, so Missy and Chas sat in the IC waiting room, hoping for the best. The officer who had been speaking with Cheryl when they came in, entered the waiting room quietly and asked to speak with Chas, who left the room with him immediately.

Missy shivered in the chilly waiting room. The chairs were uncomfortably firm and covered in a waterproof, stain-proof fabric which featured a pattern of green leaves on a dark purple background. A vending machine hummed in the corner, and the scent of hand-sanitizer and antiseptics permeated the space. Missy noticed that it was the most cold, impersonal room that she had been in in quite some time, and felt somehow that she deserved to be in the imposing space. She berated herself for being nasty and short with both Ben and Cheryl before their accident.

She didn’t know what she’d do if something awful happened to Ben. He just had to get well, so that she could apologize to him and thank him for his loyalty and hard work all the years that she’d known him. He was like family to her and she’d mistreated him because she was worried and stressed. Cheryl was a new addition, but family nonetheless, and she had treated her poorly because she may have committed a crime of passion. Missy didn’t know whether the girl was innocent or guilty, but, if she was being honest, she hadn’t even given her the benefit of doubt.

She stood when Chas came back in, looking at him expectantly. He sat down next to her to explain what he had found out from the investigating officer.

“Cheryl said that they were driving along just fine, but when they came to the part of Sheldon Road that has a steep incline with a curve at the bottom, Ben tried to use the brakes and they didn’t work, so the car slid right through the guard rail and over the embankment. The ground was muddy and soft because of the rain we’ve had recently, which cushioned the fall a bit, but the car didn’t stop moving until it hit a tree, which smashed in Ben’s door and gave him the head injury. The rescue crew had to cut the top of the car off to get him to safety.”

Missy had begun crying as Chas described the series of events, and shook her head in horror as he finished. “Oh Chas, that’s awful,” she cried. “But it’s so strange that Ben’s brakes didn’t work. He’s meticulous about maintaining his car.”

“That’s one of the disturbing details,” the detective grimaced. “After Cheryl told the officer who was interviewing her about the brakes, he had another guy on the scene check out the car, and they discovered that the brake lines had been punctured.”

Missy’s hands flew to her mouth in horror. “You mean someone…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.

Chas nodded. “Someone either wanted Ben hurt, or…”

“Dead,” Missy whispered. “But who would do such a thing? Ben is a sweet, innocent young man.”

“Maybe someone who didn’t want him to confess what he knows about the murder,” the detective raised his eyebrows.

“Cheryl?” Missy asked.

Beckett opened his mouth to answer, closing it again when a doctor walked into the room.

“Detective Beckett?” the doctor asked, ignoring Missy entirely.

“Yes, and you are?” Chas asked holding out his hand.

The doctor shook it perfunctorily. “Dr. Aston,” was the terse response. “I’ve been monitoring Ben Radigan’s progress. He seems to have stabilized, but has not yet regained consciousness. Since I’m assuming that you have better things to do, I’ll advise you that sitting here, waiting is really just a waste of time. We’ll notify your office when…or if, he regains consciousness,” he said, without the slightest touch of compassion.

Missy stood, wanting to speak to him before he left the room. “Dr. Aston, my name is Meliss…” she began before he cut her off.

“I know who you are, and I have nothing to say to you,” he said, arrogantly. “Detective,” he nodded in Chas’s direction, and left the room.

“Chas!” Missy grabbed Beckett’s arm. “Isn’t this some sort of conflict of interest? I don’t feel comfortable with Ben’s doctor being the man who is suing him,” she exclaimed. “You saw how uncaring he seemed. What if he tries to get back at Ben by not giving him proper care?”

The detective placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, leading her from the room. “Let’s maintain a little bit of perspective here, shall we? There’s no way that Dr. Bernard Aston would throw away his career just because he was angry and involved in a lawsuit. His responsibilities as a caregiver are the same, regardless of whom he’s treating,” he explained gently. “I know you’re upset, but we just have to trust that Ben is in good hands. He’s a young, strong guy – he’ll be fine. Would you feel better bringing Toffee over and staying at my place tonight?” he asked, at a loss as to how to comfort her.

Missy shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine at home. I’m just going to go to bed,” she replied numbly.

Missy lay under her hand-stitched quilt, staring into the darkness of her room. Sleep seemed an impossibility as her mind whirled with thoughts, doubts, fears and anger. In the morning, she would have to close her LaChance store, because Cheryl would need to stay home and recover, and even with the decrease in traffic, she couldn’t expect Grayson to run it by himself all day every day. She had called to let the sensitive youth know that he needed to report to the Dellville store the next day. He agreed immediately, wanting to do whatever he could to help. Little did Missy know that, since he didn’t have a car, he’d have to get up extra early and ride his bike to Dellville, thanking his lucky stars that at least Louisiana winters were generally pretty mild. Had she known, Missy would’ve picked him up herself, but the polite young man didn’t want to impose, so he kept his transportation woes to himself.

Both of her managers were unable to work, leaving one shop closed entirely, and the other staffed by two assistants and herself. Determined to have a business for Ben to return to, she planned to rise to the occasion and bravely gut out her circumstances as best she could. The trickle of customers that had remained faithful to the LaChance store, despite Loretta Christianson’s gossip, had slowed to a degree that she wouldn’t be losing much business by closing the store for a few days until either Cheryl was ready to come back, or she had hired someone else. She was more than aware that if the young woman was arrested for murder, she’d have to hire someone else to fill the position, and that probability seemed more and more likely.

When the blessed oblivion of sleep finally claimed her, she was tormented by dreams that left her feeling weary and unrefreshed when she peeled her eyes open in the morning. Her first order of business, after letting Toffee out briefly, was a phone call to Chas to check on Ben’s progress. The young manager had been moved out of the ICU and into his own room, but had not yet regained consciousness. She made plans to visit him after breakfast, and headed over to the Dellville store to see how Grayson and Chris were doing.

Pleased that things were operating smoothly, even without the guidance and supervision of management, Missy felt comfortable leaving the guys at the Dellville store so that she could drop in and visit Ben. Arriving at his room with a teddy bear, an elaborate arrangement of flowers and a bouquet of helium mylar “Get Well” balloons, she was surprised to see Cheryl, bruised and bandaged, sitting miserably in a faux leather recliner in a corner of Ben’s room.

“Hi Ms. G.,” she said tentatively, as Missy placed her colorful gifts on the window sill where Ben would see them when he woke up.

“Hi Cheryl. How are you feeling?” she asked quietly, barely able to look at the young woman.

“Everything hurts,” she admitted with a slight shrug. “But, all things considered, I was the lucky one,” her faced was pained as she gazed at her comatose former fiancé.

“No progress?” Missy asked, also looking at Ben.

Cheryl shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “What am I going to do if he never…” her voice choked off as she struggled not to cry.

“We can’t think in those terms,” Missy asserted, having had the same thought process the night before. “We’re not going to give up on him. He’s strong, he’ll get through this,” she said, with more conviction than she felt. “How long have you been here?”

“Visitor hours are from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., so I’ve been here since 7:30. I waited in the coffeeshop downstairs until it was time to come up,” she said, staring at the floor. She sighed and raised her eyes to meet Missy’s, looking as though she was drowning in despair. “Please don’t hate me, Ms. G.  I swear to you, I didn’t hurt anyone. I don’t know who killed my stepfather, or why, but it wasn’t me,” her eyes begged for understanding that Missy wasn’t quite prepared to give.

“Let’s just concentrate on you and Ben getting better, okay?” she said, pitying the pale young woman before her, but not quite trusting her.

Cheryl nodded sadly, returning her gaze to the floor, and tucked her feet up under her in the chair, her arms wrapped around her midsection. Missy walked to the side of Ben’s bed, taking in all the tubes and wires attached to the man whom she loved like a son. She swallowed a lump in her throat and patted his hand.

“Take all the time you need, but come back to us, sugar. We’re waiting for you,” she whispered. Without another word to the girl huddled in the corner behind her, she turned to go.