Strawberry Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 13 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) (3 page)

“I
need ice cream,” Missy sighed, plopping down into a small bistro chair in the
front of Echo’s store.

“Oooo!
Good, I have a new creation that I’m dying for you to try,” her friend
exclaimed, grabbing a scoop. She dug into one of the canisters in the freezer
case and plopped an orange ball of some sort of frozen delight into a bowl and
brought it out. “See what you think,” she encouraged, handing Missy a spoon.

There
was a sublime blend of flavors that coolly caressed Missy’s tongue…just what
the doctor ordered. She tasted mainly mango, but with subtle essences of
vanilla and an unexpected twist of mint. It was haute cuisine comfort food and
exactly what she needed at the moment.

“You
have truly outdone yourself this time,” she nodded appreciatively, digging in.

“Oh,
I’m so glad you like it, I came up with it this morning, after dreaming about a
vacation in a tropical location last night.”

Missy’s
spoon stopped midway to her mouth. “Are you going on vacation?”

“Frank
and I have been talking about it,” she admitted happily, setting off multiple
alarms in Missy’s mind.

“Really?
He hasn’t mentioned needing to take time off,” she observed carefully,
pretending to focus on her dessert.

“Well,
nothing’s settled yet, we’ve just been tossing ideas around,” Echo shrugged.
“Is everything okay? You seem…I don’t know…upset.”

“I’m
just worried about you I suppose,” Missy confessed, putting down her spoon.

“Worried
about me? Why on earth would you be worried about me?” her friend frowned.

Missy
explained the exchange between Frank and Brad, and said that it made her worry
that maybe Frank was being a little too aggressive and possessive.

“Aww…that’s
cute,” Echo smiled fondly, thinking of her boyfriend. “I actually secretly like
it when my man gets jealous. It shows that he cares.”

“Oh
honey, it wasn’t cute, it was over the top,” Missy insisted, concerned. “He
acted like he owned you, it was really disturbing.”

Echo
raised an eyebrow, clearly not pleased. “Well look, Missy,” she snipped,
growing angry.
“Not all of us have the good fortune to date drop-dead-gorgeous billionaire
detectives, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t have a meaningful relationship
with a decent man who happens to care enough to stand up for me,” she huffed,
crossing her arms over her chest.

Missy
took a breath and bit back the unpleasant response that threatened to come
tumbling out after her friend’s bitter-sounding comment regarding her
relationship with Chas. “I’m not saying that you can’t have a good
relationship,” she explained patiently. “I’m just saying that you haven’t known
Frank for that long and he may not be who you think he is.” Missy noticed
Echo’s eyes flick briefly to a spot behind her and over her left shoulder and
instinctively knew that Frank was standing behind her and had heard the last
part of their conversation.

“I
really need to get back to work,” Echo muttered, turning and heading for the
kitchen.

Missy
stood, pushed in her chair and left her bowl in the sink behind the counter,
brushing past Frank as he strode toward the kitchen, following his girlfriend.

“Frank,”
she acknowledged him with a curt nod.

“Missy,”
he replied, his dark eyes cold, his voice toneless.

“So
what do you know about Brad’s murder?” Missy asked Chas over a plate of
raspberry crepes. He had come over to cook for her this morning because their
days had been so busy lately that they’d had little time to spend together.

The
detective blotted his mouth with a napkin and took a sip of coffee. “Well, we
have a suspect now,” he said carefully.

“Really?
Who is it? Who could’ve done such an evil thing?” Missy demanded.

Chas
sighed. “You won’t want to hear this,” he advised her.

“Of
course I want to hear it, whoever did this needs to be in jail,” she put down
her fork.

“We
have a witness who saw the suspect loitering around the hotel where Brad was
found, and multiple witnesses who overheard an argument between Brad and the
suspect earlier in the day,” he explained. “Unless this guy has an airtight
alibi, it doesn’t look good for him.”

“Who
is it? Who is the suspect?” Missy asked impatiently.

“Frank
Stiles, your delivery guy,” Chas admitted, gravely. “And I need to ask you a
few questions about a conversation that he had with you and Brad.”

Missy’s
hands flew to her mouth and her eyes widened in horror. “Frank? Oh no! Do you
think Echo is in danger?”

“I
certainly hope not. We’re looking for him now, do you know where he might be?”

“No,”
she looked at her watch. “His first delivery isn’t scheduled until 9:00 this
morning, so he probably won’t come in until 8:30. I’m texting Echo, just to see
if she’s okay,” Missy reached for her phone.

Chas
put his hand over the phone before she could start texting. “You have to be
careful, sweetie. I know that you want to check on your friend, but you can’t
say anything that might cause her to tip Frank off that we’re looking for him,”
he said gently.

“Can
I just say that I’m sorry about our conversation yesterday and that I want to
talk to her today?” Missy asked, on the verge of tears. “I just have to know
that she’s okay. Even if she sends me a mad text, I’ll at least know that she’s
alive.”

“Of
course,” he replied, taking his hand from the phone.

Missy
nearly lost her mind with worry when Echo didn’t respond to her text. She kept
checking her phone, making sure that she hadn’t set it to silent, that she had
enough battery and that she had a strong signal. She promised Chas that she
wouldn’t say anything about Frank and received his reluctant blessing to go
look for her friend at her bungalow and her store, returning home even more
worried when she wasn’t at either place. Having a strong feeling that Frank
wouldn’t show up for work, she made sure that there was enough staff so that
someone could drive the delivery van if necessary, and when he didn’t show up
for his shift, she was glad that she had anticipated the situation, but was
even more frightened for Echo. When she had stopped by the ice cream shop,
Echo’s assistant, Chelsea, had been standing outside, waiting, along with
Lounge Lizard Leonard, and had no idea that her boss had disappeared. Missy
told her that Echo wouldn’t be opening the store because she wasn’t feeling
well, and sent her on her way.

“What’s
wrong with our girl?” the shiny man with the salt and pepper comb-over and coke
bottle glasses asked once Chelsea was out of earshot.

Missy
looked at him strangely, his figure of speech making her shudder just a bit for
some reason. “She’ll be fine, she just needs to rest, I think,” she hedged,
keeping the real worry from her voice.

“Makes
sense. That lovely creature works way too hard,” he observed, heading for his
nondescript beige car. Missy watched him walk away, taking in the out-of-style
clothing and awkward movement, wondering how on earth someone as ungainly as Leonard
managed to be so confident.

Knowing
that if she went home, she’d just drive herself crazy worrying about her
friend, Missy headed back across the street to
Crème de la Cupcake
and
spent the rest of the day immersing herself in creating new recipes. The
distraction was somewhat effective, but just after the shop closed for the day,
Chas came by with a forensics team to go through Frank’s locker, stirring up
her fears all over again. They had not been able to locate Echo or Frank, and
Missy was afraid of what the killer might do to her best friend.

“The
key that she used to keep in the mailbox is gone,” Missy worried to Chas over
the phone. She had gone to Echo’s bungalow again, hoping to get inside and see
if anything looked out of place.

“You
do realize that you’ll be breaking and entering if you go inside,” the
detective cautioned.

“Not
if I use a key that she gave me permission to use,” Missy shot back, impatient.
“Where on earth could it be?” she searched the porch and the back landing to no
avail.

Sighing
audibly, Chas decided to help her out. “Go to the front door,” he directed.
“Now stand on your tiptoes and feel along the molding over the top of the
door.”

“Oh!”
Missy exclaimed as she accidentally knocked a key off of the molding and it
landed with a metallic clink on the painted boards of the porch. “Wow, how did
you know it would be there?” she asked, impressed.

“Just
about every household in the US does that,” he explained. “But don’t use that
info for nefarious purposes,” he ordered playfully.

“Thank
you, Chas,” Missy said, unlocking the front door. “I’m going in to check things
out.”

“Let
me know if you find anything…and be careful,” he advised.

“Of
course I will, but what could possibly happen?”

Missy
crept into the foyer, feeling like an intruder. It was strange being in Echo’s
house and not smelling incense or hearing the shrill screech of her ancient
teakettle. The home was always so full of laughter, music and love, that it was
depressing being here alone, without Echo’s bubbly presence. She missed her
friend badly, and the further into the house that she moved, the more convinced
she became that something bad had happened. It just didn’t feel right.

She
looked around the kitchen and found nothing out of place. No dirty dishes in
the sink, no teabags in a dish by the stove. Looking around the living room,
she froze in place when she heard a soft scrape on the floor upstairs, directly
above her in Echo’s bedroom. Listening carefully, she called out, “Hello?
Echo?” and tiptoed up the stairs, heart pounding wildly. Feeling more than a
little bit vulnerable, she crept slowly up the stairs, still straining to hear.
The sound that she had heard didn’t repeat, but she knew that it had been more
than a mere figment of her imagination. Something, or someone was in the house,
and she had to find out what the source of the sound had been.

Watching
for movement or shadows, she reached the top of the stairs, moving toward
Echo’s bedroom. Her door was closed, filling Missy with foreboding. She put her
hand on the antique brass knob, turning it slowly and wincing at the creaking
sound that seemed to reverberate through the upstairs. Opening the door, she
immediately spotted something that gave her cause for concern. The bed was
made, the shades were down and the curtains drawn. Everything was in place and
as it should be with the exception of Echo’s “delicates” drawer, which had been
pulled completely out of her dresser and dumped on the floor, its contents
strewn about as though someone had pawed through them, looking for something.
Missy felt a chill creeping up her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck
rose in alarm. A floorboard creaked immediately behind her and she spun to face
the intruder just as a searing pain stabbed into her neck and everything went
black.

Chas
Beckett tossed a thick file folder onto his desk, disgusted and worried. Missy
had been missing for two days now, and he had no leads as to where she might be
or why. Forensics had turned up nothing conclusive as yet, and the spots of
blood on Echo’s bedroom floor and back porch had escalated his concern. Echo
had withdrawn a few thousand dollars from her bank account the morning after
Brad Parker’s murder, and neither she, nor her boyfriend Frank had been seen
since. Traces were requested for any credit cards and cell phones that either
of them might have, but so far nothing had turned up that would give any
indication of where they might be. As much as it pained him to think so, Chas
was beginning to believe that not only had Frank killed Brad, but apparently
Echo was determined to cover for him and help him avoid arrest. The thing that
kept giving him pause for thought was the fact that he knew how much Echo loved
Missy. No matter what she had become involved in, he simply couldn’t believe
that she would allow her friend to be hurt or kidnapped.

The
detective had gone to Missy’s house when she failed to answer her phone, after
repeated attempts at trying to contact her, and found her dogs patiently
waiting for her to get home. He kept food, toys and bedding at his house for
them because they visited often, so he snapped their leashes on, took them for
a short walk, then loaded them into his car, taking them home with him until
Missy returned. He held on to the slim hope that she had merely tried to take
matters into her own hands and had gone somewhere to investigate.
Unfortunately, he also knew that she’d never ignore his calls or abandon her
furry babies, so that scenario seemed highly unlikely. He had been working
tirelessly, day and night, since her disappearance – she was the love of his
life and he wouldn’t rest until he had found her and brought her to safety.

**

Missy’s
throat hurt badly. She tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Her mouth was stuffed
with some sort of coarse fabric that had sucked every bit of moisture from her
mouth. Her head ached abominably, and a tight cloth tied around her eyes
prevented her from opening them. Because she couldn’t see, she listened, and
heard absolutely nothing – no sounds of cars, or people, or appliances running,
or any of the typical noises that one would associate with normal life. Her
hands were bound behind her, and her wrists ached, chafing against what felt
like duct tape, and she was lying on a firm but squishy surface that felt like
an aging couch and smelled of dust and wear. Too exhausted and dehydrated to
cry, she tried to think about how she had gotten into her current predicament,
and couldn’t put a coherent thought together, collapsing into unconsciousness
from the effort.

A
dark figure opened the door of the cabin. The man moved quietly, placing sacks
of groceries and supplies on the counter in the kitchen. He put each item in a
specific place for a specific reason, then moved to the daybed where the blonde
woman who had interrupted him lay sleeping. He had been injecting her with
tranquilizers stolen from a veterinary office periodically so that she wouldn’t
have to suffer through the sensory deprivation that he insisted upon. He had to
keep her quiet and he had to keep her immobile until his purpose had been
served, then she would be of no consequence to him.