A Frozen Scoop of Murder: A Cozy Mystery (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book 1) (5 page)

“I’m not the one who likes to untangle murder mysteries. I’ll leave that to you amateur sleuths.”

“Chicken,” Paige said smiling.

“Paige, I think Stormi and I can finish up here if you want to go with Bruce,” I offered.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“Absolutely. It’s getting late and I’m ready to close anyway,” I answered.

The two took off arm in arm. I was happy for Paige, she had a great husband. Someday I hoped for the same, but good men were hard to find. At that moment, Brandon walked up.

“So are you ladies ready to wrap it up? I can tear down the booth and put it in back of my truck and bring it by your house tomorrow Tara.”

“Brandon, you’re too good to me,” I said.

Stormi, Brandon and I worked for the next half hour tearing down the booth and putting the left over ice cream into my vehicle. Brandon took the small freezer as well. I wished them a good night and headed to the store to drop off the ice cream.

Once the ice cream was safely back in the freezer at the store, I walked out the front door and locked it. When I turned around, I was startled to see Trevor standing there.

“My God Trevor, you frightened me!” I exclaimed.

“Sorry,” he said sounding dejected. “I saw you leave the festival and followed you here. I thought maybe you and I could talk for a few minutes.”

“Well sure,” I said. “I’m so sorry about your Aunt.”

“Thanks…it’s just such a shock.”

“I know it has to be. Do the police know what happened?”

“They won’t know until the autopsy is done, but I’m sure it’s something she inhaled.”

“That’s the word around the festival too. But do they think it was intentional?” I couldn’t believe I was asking him all these questions but I couldn’t help it.

“Well if they don’t I do!” He exclaimed.

“Why is that?”

“Because the epi pen was conveniently missing from her purse. She always carries it with her.”

“Do you have any idea who would do this?”

“I have a person in mind.”

“May I ask who?”

“Mr. Florez.”

“But why Trevor? What would he have to gain from it?”

“He had access to the purse and her roses. What he had to gain is anybody’s guess. But his last wife died suspiciously so there’s that.”

“Really, I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, just Google his name and Nashville, Tennessee and you’ll find newspaper articles about her death.”

“I’ll do that. Well, it’s late and I’m tired. I really need to get home,” I said feeling bad that I was copping out on him, but my feet and back were killing me.

“Oh no, I feel better just venting. I appreciate you listening to me,” he said with a halfhearted smile.

“Call me tomorrow Trevor if you want to talk. I want to be here for you.”

“Thanks I’ll do that,” he said as he squeezed my hand, and then turned to walk back to his truck.

I got in my car and drove away thinking I would Google Mr. Florez when I arrived home or I wouldn’t sleep a wink that night.

*****

Sure enough, Trevor was right. I found several online articles detailing the strange death of a Mrs. Enid Florez. Mrs. Florez died of a heart attack, but her family questioned her untimely death, saying she herself had become frightened of her husband, even at the point of asking to purchase a gun. One of the interviews with Mrs. Florez’s brother said he himself wondered if Mr. F. hadn’t injected her with something to cause the heart attack. It was all speculation of course and charges were never filed. But I could see how Trevor might be suspicious.

The next day was Sunday and although I normally didn’t open the Shoppe, I decided to go down anyway and tidy up. Stormi called and I told her I was on my way and she said she’d meet me there. I filled her in on what I learned about Mr. Florez.

“Hmmm, that is odd to say the least,” Stormi mused. “I heard he was taken in for another round of questioning at the police station.”

“Really? Wow, I still can’t see what he’d get out of it though. Maybe if they were married and there was some large insurance policy.”

There was a knock on my Shoppe door and a woman with two small children looked in. I decided to go ahead and open the Shoppe since people seemed to be out and about today wanting ice cream it seemed. I think everyone was still abuzz with what happened to Miss Greta and wanted to compare notes.

Stormi and I heard quite a few tall tales, but nothing that seemed plausible. However, it seemed almost the entire town had now heard about Mr. Florez’s first wife. Mr. Jenkins was also high on the list now that word slipped out about his rendezvous with Miss Greta. Unless he was jealous, I still couldn’t see the connection. Trixie was another one that didn’t make sense as a suspect. What did she have to gain? I always came back to that question with all my suspects. Whoever killed her had to gain something in return, whether it was money or if she was simply in the way.

So that brought me back to Trixie. Was Greta in the way of her and Mr. Florez? First, I’m still not sure why Mr. Florez wasn’t with Trixie in the first place. They seemed better suited for one another. But maybe Trixie wanted Greta out of the way, so she could move in. After that hug between Trixie and Mr. Florez. I was beginning to wonder. My head was spinning trying to figure it all out.

Paige and Sam walked into the Shoppe later in the day. “What are you doing open?” Paige asked.

“Oh, I came in to tidy up the place and customers kept wanting ice cream so I obliged,” I said as I carried a barrel of cookie dough ice cream back to the big freezer.

“So have you heard the news?” Sam asked sitting down at one of the tables.

“What news?” Stormi asked.

“They charged Mr. Florez with Miss Greta’s murder,” Paige answered.

“You’re kidding,” I stammered. “Have they got evidence?”

“Evidently they found a bag of peanut dust and the epi pen in his car. He’s claiming he was framed, but his past may be catching up with him,” Paige explained.

“You think they’re rushing to judgment?” I asked.

“Well if they found the murder weapon in his car it’s hard to dispute that,” Stormi said as she swept the floor.

“Yeah but anyone could have deposited those items in his car,” Paige replied.

“I agree,” I said. “This doesn’t feel right.”

“But what about his first wife’s suspicious death?” Stormi asked.

“He was never charged,” Paige answered.

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t do it,” Stormi replied.

“But if he didn’t do it, this makes him the perfect scapegoat for this crime. Someone could be setting him up,” I said. Suddenly I thought of Trevor stopping by last night. He wanted to talk about Mr. Florez and the mystery of his first wife. It seemed that was the only reason he stopped to talk, was about Mr. Florez. My heart beat faster and my mouth grew dry.

“What about Trevor? Would he have anything to gain?” I asked.

“Trevor…no!” Stormi answered. “I’m sure he didn’t have anything to do with this. The police have questioned him as well as Mr. Florez.”

“But why did he stop by here last night to tell me about Mr. Florez,” I said suspiciously. “Seems odd to me.”

“Yes that is strange,” Paige agreed.

“You two are whacked,” Stormi said as she walked to the back.

“I heard Miss Trixie’s daughter is here from Atlanta,” Sam said.

“She actually came in last evening,” Paige explained. “She comes for the festival every year but she was late because of work. I’m sure Trixie is glad she’s here now.”

“I’d like to meet her before she heads back to Atlanta,” I said.

“I’m sure she’ll stay through the funeral,” Paige answered. “She’s very nice, just like Trixie.”

The next few days were a blur with the viewing and burial of Miss Greta. I met Trixie’s daughter Eileen at the visitation. She was a younger version of Trixie but with the same smile and lovely attitude. Trixie was holding up pretty good, although she’d often walk over and look at Greta lying in the casket. I think she was missing her friend.

Mr. Florez’s son arrived from Nashville and posted bail for his father. Mr. F. didn’t come to the visitation, but it was rumored the funeral home allowed him to stop in after everyone else left and pay his respects. I also saw him standing several yards away at the burial. I felt sorry for him and I didn’t think he killed Greta. But if it wasn’t him, who was it? I know it wasn’t my job to figure it out, but the amateur sleuth in me was running on overdrive. Paige, Stormi and I would go over clues but none of us could agree. Paige thought it was Trevor. She had a gut instinct that something was hinky with him.

“Maybe he’s was the sole beneficiary of Greta’s will since she didn’t have any children,” Paige said one evening after closing. “Perhaps he wanted to get rid of her before she married Mr. Florez.”

“That’s reaching,” Stormi declared. “I think Mr. Jenkins had enough of all the sneaking around and decided to get rid of her.”

“But what does that benefit him?” I asked. “I can see him being pissed at her, but enough to kill her….I don’t know.”

“And there’s always Trixie,” Paige fretted. “That’s one suspect I don’t want to entertain, but she did have access to the flowers.”

“Not necessarily,” I disagreed. “If they were on the outs after the beauty shop blowup, she likely wouldn’t have access to the flowers or her purse.”

“That’s true,” Paige agreed. “Now I feel better.”

We were standing in the back of the store when I heard the front door of the Shoppe tinkle. I walked out and saw Trixie’s daughter Eileen who I’d met at Greta’s visitation.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Are you closed for the evening?”

“Yes we are,” I answered. “I forgot to change my sign, but I can get something for you.”

“Oh no,” Eileen answered. “I simply wanted to order a cake for my mother. Help cheer her up. She loves your ice cream so much and I thought an ice cream cake would be just the thing.”

“Of course,” I said as I retrieved my pen and paper. “How is your mother?”

“She’s sad of course, but I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Eileen replied.

“So what kind of ice cream and cake would you like to order?” I asked as Paige walked into the store from the back.

“Oh Eileen, how is your mother doing?” She asked.

Eileen reiterated what she told me and then said she planned to take her mother back to Atlanta with her to stay.

“Oh really,” Paige exclaimed. “I know you must miss your mother but I hate to lose her smiling face around here.”

“She doesn’t want to leave either, but I think it’s for the best,” Eileen replied. “She never wanted to leave because of Greta, which was beyond my comprehension…especially the way she treated my mother.”

“I always wondered why they were such good friends,” Paige pondered. “They seemed like complete opposites and Trixie took a boatload of crap from Miss Greta. I guess I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

“Well, you’re just stating a fact,” Eileen agreed. “Greta could be a pill.”