Rum Cake Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 8 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries)
Read Rum Cake Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 8 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Online
Authors: Carol Durand,Summer Prescott
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2015 by Maven Publishing - All rights reserved.
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Table of Contents
Melissa Gladstone hurried into her Dellville, Louisiana cupcake shop, Crème de la Cupcake, pulling her coat tightly around her. The morning was chilly, and the wind sliced through her light jacket and whipped her blonde curls about in a manner that brought visions of snowflakes to mind. She was a tousled mess when she closed the front door firmly behind her, but smiled at her loyal manager, Ben, upon her arrival. The bright young graduate student had just last week proposed to his lovely girlfriend, Cheryl, who managed Missy’s other store, Missy’s Muffins and More, in the neighboring town of LaChance, and Missy couldn’t be happier.
Ben was in the midst of the morning rush, so his boss shed her coat in the back room, rolled up her sleeves and went right to work, helping out him and his assistant Chris with the sizable line of people waiting to grab cupcakes, muffins and cookies, along with their morning coffee, on the way to work. When the rush died down to a manageable line, Missy slipped back to the kitchen to put together the to-go orders that would need to be delivered during the day to various businesses and events. She had just packaged up four dozen strawberry cupcakes for a baby shower, when Chris appeared at the kitchen doorway.
“Phone for you Ms. G.,” he announced. “It’s Cheryl.”
“Are you sure it’s for me and not Ben?” she grinned, teasing.
Chris chuckled. “For once, it’s not.”
He headed back to the front counter and Missy picked up the extension in her tiny office off of the kitchen. “Good morning, lovely bride-to-be,” she sang out. “What can I do for you today?”
She could almost hear the blush in Cheryl’s voice when she replied. “Hi, Ms. G., I just wanted to let you know that I got a call from Mrs. Christianson at the Women’s Auxiliary. They’re having some sort of charity event and she wants to talk to you about volunteering and cupcakes. I have her number here if you want to call her back.”
Missy sighed inwardly. She wasn’t a member of the Auxiliary, but she tried to help out many of the local charities in her home town of LaChance, and community leaders knew that she was dependable in a pinch. She hoped that whatever Loretta Christianson needed wouldn’t take too up too much time, the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas were her busiest weeks of the year, and she hated to turn down an opportunity to help out. Loretta was from one of LaChance’s finest families, and had married a local attorney, Sidney Christianson, which merely underscored her already prominent position on the society pages. Far from being a decorative socialite, however, Loretta worked long hours for worthy causes all over the area, and Missy knew that if she was spearheading an event, it would probably pull at her heart strings significantly enough to prompt her to help out.
“Hi, Loretta, it’s Missy Gladstone. Cheryl said that you called,” she explained, when the busy organizer picked up the phone.
“Melissa! It’s so great to hear from you,” excitement and relief evident in her voice. “Listen, sugar, I know that it’s last minute, but I’m in a bind and I’m hoping that you can help me out. I’m hosting a children’s party to benefit the pediatric wing at the hospital, and I just got a call from the caterer. They can do the food for the kiddos, but they don’t do desserts, and I’m really hoping that you’ll be able to come up with something for me. I can pay you from the slush fund at the Auxiliary.”
“Don’t be silly, I’ll donate whatever cupcakes that you’ll need. Cheryl and I can decorate them to look like clowns and animals and all sorts of fun “kiddie” things,” Missy assured her. “When do you need them?” she asked, jotting down notes on a scratch pad.
“Well, see…that’s the thing,” Loretta sighed. “The event is on Saturday.”
“Saturday?” Missy asked, eyebrows raised. “As in the day after tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’m so sorry, Melissa. You know that I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. This money is so desperately needed…” she apologized.
“No worries, Loretta, it’s okay. I’ll have Cheryl stay late with me tomorrow night to get the baking and decorating done. We’ll make it happen. How many guests are you expecting?”
“Oh thank you, girl, you’re the best!” she gushed. “The guests are going to be the children of several of our donors, children of the hospital staff and many of our doctors, and some former patients from the pediatric wing as well. We’re looking at probably close to a hundred kids between the ages of 3 and 10.”
Missy pursed her lips and swallowed before replying. That many kids translated into multiple large batches of cupcakes. She and Cheryl would be busy working long hours for the next couple of days, beginning tonight. “Okay, gotcha. I’ll make sure that there are no nuts, strawberries, or any other well-known allergens, and we’ll bake some vegan and gluten-free choices as well.”
“That will be so great, thank you so much!” Loretta exclaimed, happy to have another item off of her to-do list.
“No problem, it’ll be my pleasure,” Missy replied.
“Great! Oh…and Melissa? There’s just one more thing…”
Missy’s “I’m about to be asked to do something that I probably won’t want to do” radar was pinging madly. “Yes, what is it?” she asked, wishing that she had hung up after Loretta thanked her.
“Because of the sheer number of children involved, we don’t have enough volunteers to help with the party. Do you think, since you’re going to be there setting up the cupcakes anyway, that you might be able to stay and help with crowd control?” she asked hopefully.
Missy bit her lower lip, indecisive. “Loretta…I really don’t know the first thing about dealing with children,” she confessed. “I’ve never even babysat.”
“Oh, sugar, you’ll be a natural, I just know it. You don’t have to have any special skills, you can just circulate, make sure the kiddos stay involved and that no one wanders off alone. It’s really easy and the other volunteers can bring you up to speed on what needs to happen,” she reassured her.
“I don’t know…” Missy hesitated, terrified at the thought of being responsible for a roomful of other people’s children.
“You’ll be great, girl, don’t worry about it. I really need you Melissa…please?” Loretta played upon Missy’s tender heart.
“Okay,” she agreed, feeling more than a bit of trepidation.
“Yay! Okay darlin, I’ve gotta run, but I’ll send you an email with all the specifics. Thanks again!” she trilled, hanging up before Missy could change her mind.
As usual, when dealing with the effervescent Loretta Christianson, Missy felt a bit steamrolled, but flattered to have been asked to participate. She pressed the End button on her phone, then dialed Cheryl to make certain that the bride-to-be had time to help her.
“I feel like I’ve been frosting cupcakes forever,” Cheryl remarked, putting the finishing touches on a batch of chocolate cupcakes that looked like teddy bears.
“Me too,” Missy agreed, surveying the colorful varieties of cupcakes lining the counters of the commercial kitchen. “It’ll be worth it though, when we see the sweet smiles on the faces of the children.”
Cheryl looked at her boss with mild concern. “Uhh…yeah. Ms. G., have you ever actually been to a children’s party?” she asked.
“Not since I was a child,” Missy joked, winking.
“I think it might be a little bit different from what you’re envisioning. I do a lot of babysitting, and quite honestly, sometimes just two or three kids can cause enough commotion to have me wanting to tear my hair out. I can’t even imagine dealing with a hundred of them,” she warned gently.
“Oh, Cheryl, honey, how bad could it be? It’ll be a bunch of happy kids at a party, playing games and eating treats. It should be one of the happiest situations ever,” her boss replied, entirely naïve. “Are you going to stay and help?”
“No,” Cheryl replied quickly and firmly. “I mean, umm…I have, like, wedding stuff to work on and…other stuff too,” she hedged. “Want me to start boxing these up?”
“Sure, that’ll be great,” Missy nodded.
Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, and Missy enlisted the help of her beau, tall-dark-and-handsome, Detective Chas Beckett, to help deliver the colorful, kid-themed cupcakes to the grand ballroom of one of LaChance’s finest hotels. When she asked if he could stay and help out, the detective replied with a long, non-specific excuse and skedaddled as soon as possible. Missy giggled at the thought of the strong, clever detective being frightened at the prospect of a children’s party and thought that he and Cheryl were being just silly. Children were fun, happy creatures…what could go wrong?
Loretta caught up with Missy as she finished setting up the cupcake table, and, after an appreciative hug, gave her a list of instructions.
“Okay, sugar, here’s what you need to do. Make sure that the kids don’t come up and grab the cupcakes. Hand them out individually and make sure that every child only gets one. Also make sure that when you give one to a child, that no one else takes it away from them or bites it while they’re holding it…”
“They would do that?” Missy interrupted, astonished.
“In a heartbeat, darlin,” Loretta replied. “The kids with special dietary needs will have color-coded wristbands on – make sure you review the list that tells you which color is which, and don’t let them talk you into giving them something that’s not approved for them.”
Missy fidgeted, beginning to get very nervous. “Why on earth would they ask for something that could make them sick?” she wondered.
“Because they’re kids,” Loretta waved dismissively. “And most likely, the ones who’ll try to pull a fast one on you won’t ask, they’ll scream, cry and demand. Don’t worry about it, just politely but firmly say no, and they’ll get over it.”
Missy blinked at the thought of child screaming at her, feeling entirely unprepared for what she might be facing.
Loretta saw the look of terror growing in her eyes and patted her arm reassuringly. “You’ll be fine, sugar. You’re sweet and helpful, and I’m sure the kids are going to love you. It’ll be fun, really,” she smiled, dashing away before Missy could object.
Half an hour into the party, Missy was exhausted. Trying to hand out cupcakes one at a time, while making sure that no one touched anything on her table and no one was served the wrong type of cupcake for their dietary needs was utterly taxing. No one had told her the effects that sugar had on children, and she found herself watching in amazement as the activity and noise level skyrocketed. Kids ran and shouted, some smiling, some crying, some overwhelmed by the bustle of it all. She had just warned, “No, no, don’t touch that, sweetie,” for the hundredth time, when Loretta flitted over to her table, seemingly in a panic.
“Oh, Melissa, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she fretted, clearly frazzled.
Seeing the typically calm, cool and in-control organizer in a panic was a surprise. “What’s wrong? Can I help you with something?” Missy asked.
“I don’t know. We had a magician scheduled to come out, but his car broke down and there’s no way that he’ll be able to get here in time. I have no idea how I’m going to keep this many kids entertained without him.”
Missy thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “I might be able to help. My manager, Ben, volunteers as a clown for parades and at hospitals and charities. He makes balloon animals and the kids absolutely love him. I can see if Chris will be able to handle my Dellville shop by himself and ask Ben to come down if you’d like.”
“Oh Melissa, you are a treasure! Yes, please call him and see what you can do. I owe you for this,” Loretta breathed a sigh of relief.
“Not at all, it’s for the kids,” Missy smiled, glancing around at the impending bedlam.
Ben arrived 15 minutes later, decked out in a puffy green and purple clown suit with giant red shoes, white gloves, and an oversized head mask. Missy was delighted at the outfit, remarking that she wouldn’t have recognized him if she hadn’t known who was beneath the mask. He went to work immediately, commanding the attention of the rambunctious tots with jokes, balloons and songs. Missy’s heart swelled with pride as she witnessed the good-hearted young man work his magic. He entertained for about an hour, the children paying rapt attention and settling down on the floor in a semi-circle around him. Loretta suggested that he take a break, knowing how tiring carrying around the large, papier mache head on his shoulders could be, and he nodded gratefully, heading for a back room after snagging a teddy bear cupcake.
Missy looked at her watch when the number of kids crying and/or wandering around, bored, seemed to increase significantly, and realized that Ben had been on break for nearly 20 minutes. Recruiting one of the adult volunteers to watch the cupcake table, she headed for the break room to remind Ben that he was needed. She entered the room that smelled delightfully of coffee and saw Ben leaning back in a chair, his heavy clown head still on, apparently fast asleep. Suppressing a giggle at the sight of the sleeping clown, she went over and gave his shoulder a squeeze to wake him.
“Hey Bozo, I know you’re tired, but we need you out there,” she grinned, shaking him a bit, and concerned when he didn’t respond. “Ben? Ben, wake up,” she said more loudly, worried now.
Loretta appeared in the doorway. “Melissa? Is everything okay? I heard your voice…” she trailed off, seeing Missy trying to rouse the clown.
“Ben, I’m going to take your mask off, okay?” she asked the unresponsive young man. Lifting the heavy head from his shoulders, she was astonished to see that the man in the costume wasn’t Ben. She looked at Loretta, not knowing what to do.
“Is he okay?” the worried organizer asked.
Missy felt for a pulse and found the man’s skin cold. “No, he’s not okay,” she turned white as a sheet. “He’s dead.”
