Peppermint Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 22 (A Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Read online

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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 & Summer Prescott Books - All rights reserved.

  All rights Reserved. No part of this publication or the information in it may be quoted from or reproduced in any form by means such as printing, scanning, photocopying or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 1

  Cupcakes in Paradise owner, Melissa Gladstone-Beckett added the last twirly dollop of red and white striped peppermint icing with a flourish. Missy had baked her luscious double-chocolate cupcakes and topped them with the latest recipe that she’d invented for fluffy peppermint icing, adding a tiny candy cane on top of each one to make them extra festive. The petite blonde loved the holidays more than just about anything, and had been delighted to create new and exciting cupcake and frosting flavors.

  She had half a dozen guests coming to stay at the Beach House Inn, which she and her husband, Detective Chas Beckett owned, and had been commissioned to provide a holiday party for the group. The Inn and cupcake shop were located right next door to each other on Florida’s Gulf Coast, in the tiny town of Calgon. Missy had coffee every morning at Cupcakes in Paradise, with her best friend, Echo Willis, a laid-back former Californian, and Phillip “Kel” Kellerman, the town gossip and incredibly talented artist who owned the gallery at which Echo worked. Kel felt that it was part of his civic duty to bring newcomers Missy and Echo up to speed on all of the latest happenings in Calgon, and was a faithful fan of Missy’s cupcakes.

  “Hey, girlfriend,” Echo called out as she came into the kitchen. “Ohhhh…those look amazing,” the redhead breathed, gazing hungrily at the cupcakes. “Any vegan ones?” she asked hopefully. Missy almost always concocted a vegan version of her new recipes so that Echo, and any other vegans who happened to come along, would be able to enjoy the treats. Some folks in town ate them just because they assumed that “vegan” meant “healthy.”

  “Of course,” Missy grinned. “Take one from the tray over there. The ones with the green sprinkles are vegan,” she pointed in the general direction of the vegan tray of cupcakes with her frosting bag. “Grab a carnivorous one for Kel while you’re at it,” she directed, squeezing the leftover frosting into a container.

  “You got it. I already put fresh coffee on out front, so once you’re done here, we can get down to the serious business of catching up on what’s been happening in our fair town,” Echo replied, plating the cupcakes for the three of them and heading for their favorite bistro table in the front of the shop.

  Missy put a lid on the container of frosting, peeled her work gloves off, tossing them in the trash, and put the tips in a mesh bag for the dishwasher. She took a chair across from Kel, who was seated and reading his paper awaiting fresh coffee and cupcakes.

  “Good morning, lovely lady,” he greeted her with a smile.

  “Hey, Kel. I hope you like peppermint,” Missy said, glancing at the cupcake in front of him.

  “Dear Missy, there are very few culinary delights that I don’t like,” he reminded her, peeling the festive pleated cup from his cupcake and taking a huge bite to illustrate his point.

  “So, what’s new in town?” Echo asked, settling in at the table.

  “Well, ever since your boy, Spencer, and I went to the Marvelous Mail shipping store last week, I’m afraid Dora Hartshorn, who works there, has seen fit to send me some rather scandalous emails,” he confided, shaking his head in disbelief. Echo cracked up and Missy’s eyes widened. Spencer was a young handsome Marine veteran who worked at the Inn as a handyman, server and general go-to guy. He’d gone along with Kel when the artist was fishing for information from the brassy, fifty-something, Dora.

  “Is that why I heard you gasp in the office yesterday afternoon?” Echo, his Gallery Manager, teased.

  “Indeed,” he shuddered. “I’m not necessarily one who conforms to the bounds of societal propriety, but that woman appears to have some rather disturbing issues.”

  “You’re just irresistible, Kel,” it was Missy’s turn for some good-natured ribbing.

  “So it would seem,” the artist replied with a grimace. “Has my lovely Gallery Manager informed you that I’m hosting a gala next week that I would like you and your hubby to attend?”

  “Yes, she did, and I will gladly use your event as an excuse to buy a new dress,” she beamed.

  “Perfect. Is it too late to place an order for goodies for the event?” Kel looked at her hopefully.

  “Not at all,” Missy patted his hand. “Just decide what you need and have your GM fax me an order.”

  “I emailed it to you this morning,” Echo said, sipping her coffee.

  “What would I do without her?” the artist looked at his employee with more than admiration.

  “Starve your guests for one thing,” she replied lightly. “So, what else is happening out there in the wild world of Calgon?”

  “Sadly, I have little else to report. It seems that no one breaks up, gets divorced or sues their family during the holidays. Good will to all men and that sort of thing, you know,” he shrugged sadly.

  “Well, here’s to hoping for a lascivious New Year,” Missy joked, raising her coffee mug for a toast.

  “Here, here,” Kel replied, clinking his mug against hers while Echo polished off her vegan cupcake.

  The bells above the door jangled, admitting Spencer Bengal.

  “Hey everybody,” he raised a hand, greeting the group. “Mrs. Beckett, Maggie sent me over to let you know that your guests have arrived. She thought you might want to meet them,” the strapping young Marine informed Missy.

  “Definitely. Help yourself to some cupcakes, Spence,” she gestured to the tray in the center of the table. “Is it a family?”

  “No ma’am,” he replied, reaching for a cupcake. “It’s three couples. I’d say they’re in their mid-40’s or so.”

  “Oh, how fun! People our age,” she nudged Echo. “You and Kel will have to come to afternoon tea and introduce yourselves. And I’m probably going to invite Carla, so you’ll have to behave,” she warned her flame-haired friend.

  “Do you have to invite her?” Echo sighed. To say that she and Missy’s Interior Decorator, Carla Mayhew, didn’t get along, was more than a bit of an understatement. The two women were like oil and water.

  �
�I’m trying to help her stay sober.”

  “By inviting her to an event where there’s plenty of free wine and beer?” Echo raised an eyebrow.

  “Just be nice. Please? I’m going to make sure that she talks to people and has a good time without getting drunk,” Missy gave her bestie a pointed look.

  “As long as she realizes that I’m not on the menu,” Kel tried to lighten the mood with a joke.

  “I have every confidence that you’ll be able to take care of yourself, Kel.”

  “If I don’t, no one else will,” he grumbled with a smile.

  “Spencer, can you take care of the shop while I go meet the new guests?” Missy asked.

  “I’ll guard it with my life, ma’am,” the Marine grinned, his cheeks full of cupcake.

  Chapter 2

  Carla Mayhew made her way to the kitchen to make coffee, feeling weak and shaky. She had refused to take a drink of alcohol for the past three days, and her body felt as though it had been hit by a truck. Her head pounded, her throat was so dry that it ached, and she felt faint every time that she sat up, stood, or moved more than a few feet. She ignored the rolling of her stomach, having thrown up so many times in the past couple of days that she knew surely there could be nothing left to spew.

  The Interior Decorator had spent most of the previous two days, either shaking and shuddering in the sweat-stained sheets of her bed, or hurling whatever water and sports drink that she had managed to force down into the toilet. She knew that Missy would have been on her doorstep in a heartbeat, with hugs and homemade soup, but she was ashamed of the state that she was in, and was determined to tough it out on her own, even if it killed her. She’d cried out several times in the past few days, thinking that death would actually be a welcome respite.

  Today, despite the dizziness and queasiness that she’d come to expect, Carla was beginning to feel a tiny bit better. Beneath the nausea, she felt the beginning pangs of hunger, and her craving for coffee was profound enough to drive her from her bed in order to make it. She wished that there was a local shop that would deliver coffee and doughnuts, but such was not the case, so she headed to the kitchen in her fluffy blue chenille robe, pale and weary, but feeling the slightest ray of hope.

  Realizing that she’d been detached from the real world long enough, Carla made the coffee, and while it was brewing, decided to go to the box at the end of her driveway to collect three days worth of newspapers. First, she took a long, slow drink of ice cold water, feeling the chill of it hit the bottom of her stomach. Refreshed, she tied the sash of her robe about her snugly, and headed for the front door. Just inside her foyer, she slipped her feet into the black flip flops that she used to go to the paper box and mail box, opening the door and seeing the sunlight for the first time in days.

  Carla’s 1950’s ranch home was near the crest of a small hill, and her driveway sloped downward from the street to the front door that was tucked back into a courtyard. She trudged slowly up the drive, and when she got to the top, leaned shakily on the pole which supported the mail and paper boxes. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and what she saw made her think that perhaps she was hallucinating. Rubbing her eyes and blinking rapidly, she realized that, either her hallucination wasn’t going away, or it wasn’t a hallucination at all, which was a horrific proposition.

  The tiny girl had long, unkempt blonde hair, and was dressed in a pink nightgown, the hem of which was drenched in blood. Her feet were bare, and her big blue eyes were wide and unblinking, seeming to have no life in them at all. She was carrying a small, well-loved brown bear in one arm, and the fingers of her other hand were in her mouth. There were blood stains on her hands, face and nightie, and for a moment, Carla stood stock still, too shocked to even speak.

  “Hey there,” Carla called softly, as the little girl padded slowly down the middle of the street. It was evident that the poor little waif clearly needed some help, and she didn’t want to scare her, so she walked toward her slowly. The girl stopped, and her head turned almost mechanically when she heard the voice calling out to her. Staring at Carla, she stood rooted to her spot.

  “Are you okay, honey?” the decorator asked, crouching down so that she was on the same level. The girl blinked twice.

  “Mommy hurt,” she said somberly, briefly taking her fingers out of her mouth.

  “Your Mommy is hurt?” Carla confirmed, reaching out to touch the toddler’s shoulder.

  The cherub-faced tot nodded.

  “Okay. I’m going to help you, sweetie,” she said, reaching for the girl’s hand. “Let’s go into my house. I’ll get you a cookie and call a nice policeman to come over and help your mama, okay?”

  The girl nodded again and placed her saliva and blood-soaked hand into Carla’s.

  Chapter 3

  “Sweetheart, I’m going to want you to come with me on this one,” Chas told Missy gravely, as he hit the button to end his call with Carla. “Just until the DCFS rep arrives. I’ll explain in the car on the way over. I’m going to call an ambulance and some backup, and then we’ll be leaving.”

  “Oh my. Okay. I’ll give Echo a call and ask her to open up the shop without me this morning,” she said, reaching for her cell.

  Adrenalin had coursed through Missy’s body when her husband asked her to come along, and when she heard why, she was even more concerned.

  “I hate to ask, but…” she couldn’t bring herself to finish her sentence.

  “Do I think Carla is involved?” Chas seemed to read her mind, as usual. “I doubt it. With a situation like this, most people would run fast and far if they were involved. Carla is your friend…do you know of any conflicts that she may have had with her neighbors?”

  Missy shook her head. “No, but then, when she’s drinking, you never know who she might have a conflict with,” she sighed.

  “Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” the detective gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter.

  When they arrived, the little blonde-haired girl was sitting on a chair at the kitchen table, nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie, and Carla was drinking coffee as though she were drawing strength from the dark brew. Missy’s heart went out to the grubby little blood-stained girl, and, after giving Carla a hug, she went and knelt in front of her.

  “Hi,” she smiled at the child. “I’m Missy. What’s your name?”

  The girl said something with a mouthful of cookie that was unintelligible to everyone but Missy.

  “Your name is Emi?” she asked, just to make sure, and the child nodded, drawing surprised looks from Carla and Chas as the decorator brought the detective up to speed in a low voice.

  “That’s such a pretty name. Is this your bear?” she asked, patting the disheveled stuffed animal on Carla’s table. Another nod.

  “He’s really cute. What’s his name?”

  “Sam.” The child licked some melted chocolate from between her fingers, and regarded Missy curiously. “Nuther cookie?” she asked.

  “Of course you can have another cookie,” Missy said, reaching for the cellophane sleeve of cookies on the counter top. “Here you go. Did you have breakfast this morning, sweetie?”

  Emi shook her head no.

  “What about dinner? Did you have dinner last night?”

  “Yup,” she chewed, her attention entirely on the cookie. She saw Missy staring at her hands, and looked down at them herself. “Dirty,” she said, holding the one without the cookie out in front of her.

  A glance passed between Missy and Chas.

  “I know, sweetie, but very soon, a nice police officer is going to come and help you clean up, okay?” Missy knew that the forensics team would want to take samples of the blood from Emi’s hands, face, feet and nightgown, so she tried to make it sound like a positive thing, hoping that the little girl wouldn’t be scared when the time came. Emi nodded and returned her focus back to the cookie.

  Chas called Missy over for a moment and gave her some instructions. Sh
e returned to the little girl and knelt down in front of her again.

  “Emi, if we go outside, can you show me where your house is?”

  “Yup,” the toddler said, not looking up from her cookie.

  An additional police car and an ambulance arrived at Carla’s and needed direction to the possible crime scene.

  “Do you want to ride in a police car?” Missy asked, trying to make it sound fun and exciting, knowing that the officers in the cruiser would be keeping the child safe.

  “Kay,” Emi replied, climbing down from the chair and putting her tiny hand in Missy’s.

  They rode down the street, in the direction from which she had come, and sitting on Missy’s lap in the back seat, Emi identified her house, a nicely-kept ranch that was pretty typical for the upper middle-class neighborhood.

  “Go home?” she asked, her blue eyes wide with innocence. Missy’s heart broke.

  “Not right now, sweetie. We’re going to go back to Miss Carla’s house and get you all cleaned up, okay?”

  The child’s lower lip started to pooch out just a bit.

  “And we’ll have some breakfast,” Missy added quickly.

  “Kay,” Emi said sadly, her head turning to look at her house as the cruiser turned around to drop them off at Carla’s.

  When they went back into the kitchen, Carla had risen to the occasion and was already preparing breakfast. The DCFS representative had arrived, along with a member of the forensics team who, thankfully, was a father of four little ones himself, and knew just how to keep little Emi entertained while he took samples from her skin and clothing. Chas had followed the ambulance and other patrol cars over to the house that Emi had said was hers. The officers knew that they were on the right track when they saw tiny little bloody footprints coming down the sidewalk from a front door that was left ajar. After taking in the scene, Chas made a quick call to the social worker. Emi wouldn’t be going home tonight.

  Chapter 4