Pink Velvet Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 9 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) (5 page)

Detective
Richard Keller, of the Dellville PD was waiting for Missy when she arrived at
Crème de la Cupcake the next day. Missy sighed inwardly, the last thing she
wanted to do was talk about the nasty mess that Donna Chesman was in. She felt
bad for the girl, but after the emotions that she’d seen her express in reference
to the victim, Mrs. Dowler, she didn’t think that it was entirely out of the
question that the girl was indeed the murderer.

“Good
morning, Detective,” she greeted him as pleasantly as she could, trying not to
let her reluctance show. “What can I do for you?”

“Have
you heard from Donna Chesman lately?” he asked.

“Not
since the day after the bake-off, when I went over to take her a cupcake,”
Missy replied, wondering why he had asked.

“Has
anything suspicious happened to you in the past few days?

She
told him about the incident with her new security light, but was quick to add
that there had been no other occurrences since. “Why do you ask?”

“I
don’t want to alarm you, but Miss Chesman seems to have disappeared, and just
last night, Mrs. Dowler’s home was burglarized. Mr. Dowler wasn’t home at the
time, and it seemed to be an oddly personal assortment of items that were
taken, which would lead us to believe that it was indeed the work of a vengeful
teenager.”

“That
poor man,” Missy sympathized. “As if things haven’t been difficult enough for
him already,” she shook her head.

“Do
you have anyone with whom you can stay until Miss Chesman is found?” Keller
asked gravely.

Missy
nodded. “Yes, I have a safe place. Do you really think I need to leave my home though?”
she asked.

“I
think it would be a good precaution,” he answered firmly.

“Okay,”
she agreed. “If you think it’s best.”

**

“Echo,
I’m just so tired of dealing with all of this,” Missy complained while her
friend devoured a vegan Carob Crunch cupcake. “It’s bad enough that I’m
suspecting a teenage girl of being a murderer, but to then have to move out of
my house because the police are afraid that I might be next…it’s just so sad
and frustrating.”

Her
friend relished a bite of cupcake, washing it down with ice water before
replying. “Look at it this way,” she waved breezily. “It’s a heck of an excuse
to enter “man world” on a live-in basis,” she teased, taking another huge bite.

“I
don’t have to resort to manipulation tactics to stay at Chas’s, he’s made it
quite clear that the girls and I are welcome anytime,” she reminded her
irreverent pal.

“Lucky
girl,” Echo said through a mouthful of Carob Crunch. “So, did you decide that
you’re keeping that sweet little powder puff of a doggie?”

“I
don’t know. I’m having lunch with the mayor at 1:00. I suppose I’ll ask him
what he thinks. I’d hate to get super-attached to Bitsy and then have his
wicked witch of a daughter sue me to get her back,” Missy made a face at the
thought of Priscilla Chadwick.

“Oh,
that’ll be a fun conversation,” Echo’s voice dripped sarcasm.

“Yeahhhh….”
Missy agreed, dreading the encounter.

“Melissa
Gladstone, as I live and breathe! Little darlin, you get prettier every time I
see you,” Mayor Felton Chadwick’s voice boomed through the hushed lobby of Cher
Margeaux. The stout little man was resplendent in a three piece white suit with
an American flag tie, pale blue shirt and elaborately-tooled grey cowboy boots.
The mayor always looked vaguely like every day was the 4
^th
of July.
He swiped at the sheen on his forehead and upper lip with a red, white and blue
handkerchief, and smiled as though his re-election depended upon it.

“Hello,
Mayor Felton. It’s a pleasure to see you,” she lied smoothly, as any polite
southern woman would.

“Let’s
get to our table, little lady, we’ve got business to discuss and I don’t intend
to do it on an empty stomach,” Felton grinned like a schoolboy, tapping lightly
on his ample midsection with both hands.

Missy
followed him to the same booth in which she had been seated with his abominable
daughter, apparently it was the only table at which the Chadwicks ever sat. She
took the same seat that she had occupied at her atrocious meeting, and was
happy to see that a bottle of wine had preceded their arrival to the table.

“Now,
I hear that there was a bit of a misunderstanding that occurred when you met
with my Prissy here recently,” Mayor Chadwick stated as the server poured a
generous measure of wine for each of them.

“Misunderstanding?”
Missy was baffled. “Umm…no, Mayor Chadwick, our communication was perfectly
clear,” she declared.

“I
told you, darlin, call me Felton,” he said, raising his glass and clinking it
against hers before taking a sip of the expensive French wine. “My daughter
seems to think that you don’t want to work with her on her wedding, and I
assured her that that was simply not the case, having discussed the matter with
you personally,” Felton smiled, looking at her expectantly.

“Your
daughter made it very clear to me that she didn’t care what your wishes were in
regard to her wedding, and that there was no way in the world that she was
going to work with me. Having met with her, I have to say that I agree it would
be best if we part ways and forget the idea of me helping out,” Missy stared him
down.

The
smile dropped from the mayor’s face and he blinked rapidly, once, twice, three
times. “I don’t believe that you understand the situation, Miss Gladstone,” he
said, taking out his handkerchief to wipe his brow. “My daughter is getting
married in just under a year from now, she will have a perfect wedding, and
you’re the one who’s going to make certain that folks are still talking about
her wedding decades into the future,” he commanded, leaning forward. “Now, I am
fully aware that my daughter can be a bit…headstrong, but I’m absolutely
certain that a woman of your caliber is more than qualified to provide my
precious Prissy with the guidance that she needs in order to…harness her
creativity in a positive way,” Felton insisted with a determined smile.

Missy
didn’t quite know how to respond. She had always believed that honesty was the
best policy, but how does one go about telling the highest elected official in
the parish that his precious Prissy is an ill-mannered, spoiled brat? She knew
that she would have to present her views strongly to withstand the smiling
tempest in a teapot who sat across the table from her, but she opted to go with
tactful diplomacy rather than brutal honesty in consideration of his love for
his venomous offspring. “Mr. Mayor…Felton, your Prissy and I have a serious
personality conflict that cannot be overcome to a degree that planning her
wedding together would be possible. We are gasoline and flame, and I really
don’t think you want that kind of volatility overshadowing this special time in
her life,” Missy smiled triumphantly, figuring that she had won.

“Now,
Miss Gladstone, I’m sure that you as an adult, will find a way to reach out to
my lovely daughter and help her to see things from a reasonable, adult
perspective. I know you’ve been enjoying tremendous success in your business
lately, and I, for one, would hate to see a decline in your customer base if
word happened to get out that you, Melissa Gladstone, were in the habit of
committing to projects that you can’t finish, or making promises that you can’t
keep,” the politician clucked his tongue and shook his head as though
disheartened by the thought.

Missy
admirably held her tongue, not saying the things that were screaming inside her
skull, relating to manipulation, entitlement, ill manners, etc… Since diplomacy
didn’t work, clearly she’d have to be more direct. “Felton, your daughter
refuses to work with me. Her exact words were, “You’re fired.” There’s no grey
area there, her meaning and intentions were quite clear. She was angry that you
hired me, and more than willing to get rid of me at the earliest opportunity.
She threw her dog at me for goodness sake!” Missy exclaimed.

“Yes,
she’s a spirited female, you’ll need to get used to her sense of humor. She
told me that she had given you the dog since you were so taken with the
creature. She has such a generous side to her,” the mayor smiled. “So, you
choose a date when the two of you can get together again, and try to get some
actual planning done this time. That girl is so hard to pin down, I can only
imagine how challenging it must be to try to brainstorm with her, but I’m
confident that you’ll make it happen. Oh dear, look at the time,” he pursed his
lips, glancing at his watch. “Sugar, you order anything you like, lunch is on
me, but I’ve got a speaking engagement that I’m going to be late to if I don’t
shake a tailfeather,” he said, standing and moving toward the lobby. “Great
talking with you again, glad we could come to an understanding,” he called over
his shoulder, waving a pudgy hand in farewell.

Missy
was furious. Felton Chadwick hadn’t listened to her at all, and had actually
threatened her business if she didn’t bow to his wishes and acquiesce to his
demands. Instead of coming out of this meeting having severed all ties with the
insufferable Priscilla Chadwick, it seemed that she was more entrenched now
than she had been before. She had no idea how she was going to make the mayor
understand that his daughter was beyond help, but for the moment, what she did know
was that she was going to make the most of her free lunch. The menu had no
prices listed on it, which automatically meant that everything was expensive
and she didn’t hold back, ordering a soup course, salad plate, appetizer,
entrée and dessert, with coffee and a port wine to finish her meal. She had
eaten only small bites of everything except the salad, and requested a doggy
bag for all of the leftovers. She left feeling full, but bitter, and just the
tiniest bit ashamed of herself.

Missy
arrived at Chas Beckett’s lovely home with her hands full of luggage, dog toys
and leashes, Toffee and Bitsy in tow.

“Here,
let me help you with that,” the gallant detective said, taking her suitcases
and bags as though they weighed nothing, and leaving Missy with only the
leashes attached to two very excited dogs.

“Thank
you so much for letting me stay Chas,” she said, somewhat breathless from
having carried her belongings. “I really appreciate it.”

“Oh
don’t worry, you can earn your keep around here by keeping me entertained with
stories about our illustrious mayor,” he teased, glancing over his shoulder at
her.

Missy’s
heart was warmed when she saw that, in addition to the large dog bed that he
kept in a corner of his living room for Toffee when she visited, there was
another, tiny, pink doggie bed for Bitsy. “Chas, you didn’t have to…” she said,
her eyes welling as she gazed at the little bed.

“Of
course not,” he dismissed her protests with a smile. “I wanted to.”

“Mmmm…something
smells amazing, what’s cooking?” she asked trailing into the kitchen after
unleashing the dogs.

“I
figured I’d whip up something special in honor of my favorite guests,” the
handsome detective replied, coming back from stashing her things in the guest
room and kissing her soundly.

“Toffee
and Bitsy?” Missy teased, moving over to see what was bubbling on the stove.

“Exactly,”
Chas nodded. “There’s just nothing better than an evening with…Toffee and
Bitsy,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her neck just below the ear while she
peered into the pots.

“Oooooo!
Alfredo?” Missy asked, her stomach growling.

“With
homemade bread sticks.”

“Oh
my, a girl could get used to this,” she grinned.

“See,
a yankee can learn southern hospitality after all,” Chas remarked, pleased with
himself.

“You’d
better not let anyone outside of this house hear you say that,” Missy warned,
with a wry smile.

Chas
seated her at the formal dining table, which was set with linens, china, silver
and candles, pouring her a glass of wine to enjoy while he plated their meals.
He brought back plates heaped with creamy fettuccini alfredo, garnished with
basil and finely shredded prosciutto, and a basket of garlicky bread sticks,
fresh from the oven and still piping hot.

“Oh
Chas, you’re going to spoil me,” Missy observed, her eyes wide as she gazed at
the sumptuous spread.

“That’s
the idea,” he grinned, sitting down across from her.

They
chatted, laughed and thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company while they
devoured the delicious fare, then settled in on the couch, doggies at their
feet, to watch a movie. About halfway through the movie, Missy started yawning,
her long day finally catching up with her. Chas pulled her close, and she
fought against sleep, leaning her head against his broad, muscular chest, safe
and secure. The detective’s phone rang, and he paused the movie while he went
to his den to take the call. When he came back, his face was grim.

“I
have to go out for a bit to investigate a home invasion,” he told her
apologetically. “You can finish the movie if you’d like, or just leave it
paused and watch something else. I may be a while, so when you’re ready for
bed, you know where everything is, don’t wait up for me,” he instructed,
tucking his pistol into a shoulder holster which was then hidden by the sport
coat that he hastily donned. Beckett gave her a quick kiss on his way out the
door, along with another apology and a promise to make it up to her. Knowing
full well that this was the life of someone who made a conscious choice to date
a law enforcement professional, Missy turned off the TV, took the dogs out for
a short walk, then came back and went to bed.

She
slept soundly, knowing that she was safe and secure as long as she was in
Chas’s care, but woke up when she heard him coming in a few hours later.
Wrapping a red plaid flannel robe around her, and cinching it at the waist, she
padded barefoot into the kitchen, where the worn-out detective was fixing
himself a glass of ice water and a light snack.

“Hey
you,” she said softly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Hey
beautiful,” he murmured, taking her into his arms.

“Everything
okay?” she asked, not lifting her sleepy head from his chest.

“Not
as okay as I’d like,” he admitted, kissing the top of her head and rubbing her
back.

Missy
pulled away a bit, so that she could look up into his deep blue eyes. “What is
it, Chas? What’s wrong?” she frowned.

The
detective sighed and kissed her forehead. “The home invasion that I went to
check out earlier…was at your house, Missy,” he said quietly, holding onto her
upper arms.

“What?”
she exclaimed. “Someone broke into my house? Why would anyone do that?” she
asked fearfully.

“Well,
Donna Chesman still hasn’t been located as yet. There were  a few items
missing, and a rather cryptic message written on your wall in bright red
crayon.”

“A
message? What sort of message? And what was missing?” Missy clutched the two
halves of her robe together at the neck.

“The
message said,
Your next
,” he explained reluctantly, knowing that it
might scare her. “And it was written where your grandmother’s painting had
hung, the painting itself was gone. It looked as though some of your clothes
were missing from your closet as well, as was the basket of dog toys that you
keep in the kitchen, unless you brought that with you.”

Missy
shook her head numbly. “No, I know that you always have a good supply of toys
over here, so I didn’t bring them, but why would Donna steal dog toys?”

Chas
shrugged. “Maybe she has a dog, who knows? We’re bringing in a handwriting
analyst from New Orleans to take a look at the message and compare it with
samples of Donna’s handwriting. When we do find her, it looks more and more
like she’ll be heading to jail. I want you to stay here until she’s found – I
don’t think that you’ll be safe at home, okay?”

She
nodded miserably. “This is so awful, Chas,” her voice shook. “I never would’ve
suspected that young girl of any of this.”

“Sometimes
the people that we suspect the least are the ones who end up being the culprit,
it’s just a sad reality. But don’t worry, sweetie, okay? I think we’re close to
getting this whole case resolved, and as soon as we find Donna, you’ll be able
to go back home,” he took her in his arms again, just holding her without
words.