Rum Cake Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 8 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) (3 page)

“Any breaks?” Missy asked Detective Chas Beckett across the red and white oilcloth table at their favorite crawfish restaurant.

“Not really,” Chas sighed, digging his fork into the heaping pile of Etoufee on his plate.

Missy pulled the corner off of the most dense, moist cornbread in the county and popped it into her mouth. “I’m worried about Ben,” she confessed. “He’s taking this really hard. There are dark circles under his eyes that make me think that he hasn’t been sleeping, and I’d swear that he’s lost weight, poor boy,” she frowned.

“Well, as of right now, he’s the only person of interest in the case, unfortunately. We haven’t been able to identify the deceased yet, and the DNA from the cupcake wrapper is still at the lab, along with fiber evidence collected from the costume. We did have one of the cocktail servers from the adult party said that he seemed to recall a man in a tuxedo coming out of the break room just before the body was discovered, but the description that he gave was so vague that it could’ve been anyone,” Chas drained his glass of tea and their aging waitress came over with a refill, temporarily stalling the conversation.

“Chas, Ben didn’t do this,” Missy asserted after the waitress moved on.

“I believe that, sweetie, I really do,” he assured her. “I’m working as hard as I can to figure out who did it, so that Ben can move along with his life.”

Missy went to the LaChance shop after lunch to help Grayson, Cheryl’s pale skinned, dark-haired young assistant, pack up an order for a church social. When she came in the back entrance to the commercial kitchen, the sensitive youth pulled her immediately aside, his dark eyes wide.

“Ms. G.,” he said quietly, looking around as though making certain that he wasn’t being overheard. “I’m really worried about Cheryl. She has hardly said a word all day, and she keeps running back to the break room. One time, I stood outside the door and heard her crying. I don’t know what’s going on, but something is clearly wrong.”

“Okay, darlin, thanks for the heads up. Is it slow enough that you’ll be able to handle the front alone while I talk to her?” Missy asked.

Grayson nodded vehemently. “Yes, ma’am, whatever it takes. I’ll be fine. I just hope that Cheryl is okay.”

“I’m sure she will be. Why don’t you go ahead and head up front and send her back to talk to me, okay?” Missy directed.

“I will,” the youth assured her, disappearing through the entrance to the front of the shop, where Cheryl was restocking the cases.

Her sweet-natured and efficient manager appeared a few seconds after Grayson’s departure. “You wanted to see me, Ms. G.?”

“Cheryl, honey, what’s wrong?” Missy asked, foregoing meaningless greetings and pretense.

The young woman’s face crumpled into tears at Missy’s question, and she put her hands over her eyes, her defenses breaking down entirely. Pained at the sight of her suffering, Missy went to her, embracing the trembling girl. “Oh honey, what is it? You can tell me. I guarantee that whatever it is, you’ll feel better after talking about it,” she smoothed Cheryl’s hair, holding her while she cried. When her sobs turned to sniffles, Missy held her at arms length, forcing her to look at her and commanded gently, “Tell me.”

“Ben…” she began, her lower lip trembling and tears threatening anew.

“What about Ben?” Missy prompted gently.

“He…he broke off our engagement,” she dissolved into tears again.

“What?” Missy exclaimed, astonished. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“He said that he didn’t want me to have to go through life with someone who had been accused of murder,” Cheryl cried, distraught. “I know he didn’t do it, Ms. G., I don’t care what anyone says, but he said that small towns can be cruel when it comes to such things and he didn’t want me to have to go through that.”

“Well, I’m sure he’s just upset. You and I both know that he loves you very much, he’s just not thinking clearly at the moment, which is completely understandable after the ordeal that he went through,” she soothed. “Listen to me, sugar, you are the most important thing in that young man’s life. He needs you and he knows it, he’s just confused right now because he’s in a very scary situation. Give him some time, but don’t give up. He’ll come to his senses soon enough, okay?” Missy took a tissue out of the purse that she had set down on the counter and handed it to the sniffling young woman.

“It just really hurts to have him push me away, just when he needs me most,” Cheryl confessed miserably.

“I know, honey,” Missy squeezed her arm supportively. “But right now, you’re going to have to be the strong one. Just be there for him. He’ll figure it out in his own time,” she hugged her again.

“I know, he’s a good man. I couldn’t ask for anyone better. Ms. G., would it be okay if Grayson handled closing by himself today…I’m not feeling very well.”

“Of course, sugar. You head on home, I’ll stay here and make sure that Grayson has backup if he needs it, don’t you worry. Have a bite to eat, get some rest, and things will look better in the morning,” she advised. “You call me if you need me, okay?”

“Yes ma’am, thanks,” Cheryl failed miserably in her attempt to smile.

Missy’s heart was heavy as she drove home after helping Grayson close up her LaChance shop. Cheryl and Ben were two amazing human beings whose lives had been turned upside down, and she felt helpless to do anything about it. She also felt quite a bit of guilt, knowing that the only reason that Ben had been at the party in the first place is because she had called him to come in and save the day. So, in the process of lending a helping hand in order to make children smile and raise money for a local charity, the unfortunate young man had become a murder suspect.

Frustrated, Missy pulled into her drive, ready to go for a nice long run with Toffee to work off some of her anxiety. She typically pulled into the garage and entered the house from the back porch, but as she drove past the front of her home, she noticed what looked like a manila envelope stuck between the heavy mahogany front door and surrounding frame, so she left her little blue car in the driveway, and trotted up the porch steps to retrieve the parcel.

Her name and address were on the front of the envelope, which had apparently been dropped off by someone from the offices of Parker, LeBlanc and Christianson, Attorneys at Law. Thinking that the correspondence was likely from Loretta Christianson, perhaps thanking her for her donation and time, she tossed it on the kitchen table, heading upstairs to change for some serious time in the park with her prancing and frolicking retriever. A comically rigorous game of fetch with Toffee was just the medicine that Missy needed to shake off her worry and sadness, even if just for a while, and regain a sense of perspective, and by the time the daring duo headed for home, both were happily worn out. The text tone on Missy’s phone pinged, alerting her to a text from Chas, requesting the pleasure of her company at his house for dinner and a movie, which after the day she’d had, sounded just heavenly.

After taking care of Toffee’s dinner and filling a bowl with fresh, cool water for the panting animal, Missy jogged up the stairs to shower and dress for dinner. She selected an outfit of jeans and a sumptuous blue angora sweater that was entirely appropriate for winter in Louisiana, pulled her blonde curls up into a messy bun, and highlighted her soft grey eyes with just a touch of eyeliner and mascara. It may only be an “at-home date,” but she wanted to look casually pretty when the tall-dark-and-handsome detective opened his door.

An evening with Chas was just what she needed. Good wine, good food and good company sounded like the perfect combination to help her relax, and the detective’s calming presence nearly always served to restore her optimism.

“Hey beautiful,” he greeted her with a smile when she opened his front door and found him in the kitchen. She nestled into his embrace, resting her cheek on the hard planes of his muscular chest, and took comfort in the simple, regular sound of his heartbeat, as Toffee made herself at home on the dog bed that he kept for her in the living room.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she murmured, content within the circle of his arms.

“You okay?” he asked, stepping back a bit so that he could look into her eyes, and relieved when there were no tears.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Missy nodded. “I’m worried about Ben of course, but I’m determined to enjoy myself tonight anyway.”

“Yeah…about that…” Chas began, looking concerned.

“Oh no…what? Did you find something?” she interrupted.

“Let’s have some dinner and we’ll discuss it,” the detective placed his hand in the small of her back, gently directing her toward the dining room, where the table was set casually with everyday plates and utensils, a bottle of Italian red wine, and two boxes from Missy’s favorite pizzeria. He’d used red linen napkins, and red tapers to solidify the theme, and while Missy was delighted at his thoughtfulness, she was too curious about what was happening with the investigation to pay much attention to her surroundings.

Chas pulled out her chair for her, then took the seat directly across the table, reaching for her plate and placed two large slices of combination pizza on it. The melted cheese stretched between the slices as he pulled them out of the box in a way that normally would have made Missy’s mouth water, but at the moment, she was preoccupied with thoughts of Ben.

“So, what’s going on?” she asked, biting the tip off of her slice of pizza.

“We’ve identified the body,” the detective said, shaking extra parmesan on top of his heaping plate.

“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?” she interrupted again, impatient to hear something positive.

“Typically, yes, because most crimes aren’t random. Victims generally know their killers, and the association that they have can lead right to the perpetrator,” he explained, holding something back.

“Wait…” Missy frowned. “You said, ‘typically’ identifying the victim is a positive thing. Why wouldn’t it be in this case?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“The victim was Stanley Conner,” Chas replied, as though that explained it all. When his pronouncement was greeted with nothing more than a blank look, he continued, “….Cheryl’s stepfather.”

Missy was confused. “That’s strange, I thought that Cheryl didn’t have any family around here.”

“She doesn’t. Conner is from out of state. We did a little digging and discovered that he left town a few years ago, after Cheryl’s mom died under very suspicious circumstances. It was before I came to LaChance, but guys who were on the force at the time said that, even though it looked like Stanley Conner had killed his wife, Cheryl’s mom, the DA felt like there wasn’t enough evidence to convict, so he was never brought to trial,” he explained.

Missy’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Well, that would certainly explain why the poor girl never mentioned having a stepfather. I had no idea that her mother was murdered, how terribly sad.”

Chas nodded, avoiding her gaze.

“What?” Missy asked suspiciously, realizing that he wasn’t telling her the whole story.

He gave her a pained look and answered reluctantly. “The unfortunate thing in all of this is that, determining the identity of the victim only served to strengthen the idea that Ben might be the perpetrator, and if he’s not…the scrutiny will most likely fall upon Cheryl.”

“That’s utterly ridiculous,” Missy exclaimed, pushing her plate away. “Cheryl is entirely incapable of harming anyone.”

“Her statement given after her mother’s death would seem to indicate otherwise,” Beckett said gently.

“What do you mean?” she narrowed her eyes, not wanting to believe that the sweet girl who had worked diligently for her was capable of a heinous crime.

“She made no secret of the fact that she thought that Stanley had killed her mother, and made several statements regarding her desire to see him imprisoned for life.”

“Which is completely understandable under the circumstances,” Missy defended the girl.

“Yes, it is,” Chas agreed. “But it also implies some pretty intense feelings of hostility toward a murder victim who just happened to be found dead insider her boyfriend’s clown costume.”

“But how would Cheryl have even known that Stanley was in town? And I’m almost positive that Ben couldn’t have known who he was. He never mentioned anything to me, and wasn’t acting strangely at all. He wouldn’t have even been at the event if I hadn’t called him. Which I really wish I hadn’t after everything that’s happened,” she lamented. “Why was Stanley Conner even in LaChance to begin with?”

“We don’t know, but he was a nurse at the hospital when he lived here, so it’s plausible that he heard about the event and wanted to attend,” the detective mused.

“Was he on the guest list?”

“No. That’s the wrench in the works. He wasn’t invited, and yet he was there. I’m hoping that when we find out the reason for his return to LaChance, it’ll lead us to the murderer.”

Missy’s eyes widened. “Oh no…” she whispered, feeling slightly ill.

“What?” Beckett asked, leaning forward and taking her hand.

Missy raised her eyes to meet his and replied woodenly, “What if Stanley was in town because he heard that Cheryl was engaged.”

“That would mean that he’d potentially been in contact with her, and she could have known that he would be attending the event,” Chas admitted ruefully.

“Oh my goodness, Chas…do you think she could have possibly…?” Missy couldn’t bring herself to even finish the sentence, staring at the detective wide-eyed and clutching his hand.

“She could have,” he nodded. “Or, perhaps even worse…she could have prompted her fiancé to do it for her, or with her,” Chas gazed at Missy gravely.

Missy shook her head vehemently in disbelief. “No. I can’t believe that. I won’t. Not about Ben. I know he loves her, but I refuse to believe that he would do such a thing,” she set her mouth in a firm line.

“Cheryl’s coming in for questioning tomorrow morning. She doesn’t know the identity of the victim, and I need you to promise me that you won’t tell her. I have a feeling that once we speak to her, we’ll have a better idea as to how we need to proceed with the investigation,” he said quietly, brushing away a tear that had rolled down Missy’s cheek. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions just yet. We don’t have all of the lab results back, and it’s usually the evidence that tells the tale.”

Missy was so worn out and defeated after speaking with Chas about the case, that she elected to skip the movie and went home to take a bubble bath before bed. Spotting the manila envelope from Parker, LeBlanc and Christianson that she had entirely forgotten, she picked it up on her way upstairs, figuring that it would be nice to read a pleasant thank you from Loretta after all the potentially bad news that she’d just received. Bending back the small brass wings that held the envelope shut, she reached in, expecting a sweet, handmade card, and pulled out a multi-legal document. Too tired to make heads or tails of it at the moment, she stuffed it back in the envelope, knowing that Chas would help her interpret the legalese in the morning.