Devil's Food Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 10 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) (2 page)

“So, the mayor indirectly roped you into planning another wedding?” Chas asked, amused, as he munched into a hard-shell taco. There was a tiny diner on the edge of town that featured $1 tacos on Tuesdays, and on rare occasion, when they were looking for privacy, they indulged in the spicy treat.

Missy grimaced and nodded, dipping a chip into homemade salsa. “But at least this time, the bride seems to be a sweet soul who should be easy to work with,” she said, trying to be optimistic.

“Attila the Hun would be easy to work with after dealing with Priscilla Chadwick,” he chuckled.

“No kidding,” Missy agreed, taking a small sip of her Margarita.

“Well, I have some news that I think might cheer you up a bit,” he said, wiping his hands on a napkin.

“Really? What?” she sat forward, curious.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said…the importance of family and all of that. I know that you lost yours and have had to make a life of your own without them, and I realized how incredibly selfish I must seem to you,” the handsome detective explained, his brilliant blue eyes holding hers captive.

“Oh, Chas, not at all! I don’t think you’re selfish,” she rushed to assure him.

“In any case, I realized that I might not only be missing out on something by staying away, but I might also be throwing away opportunities to be there for my brother and sister.”

“Wow, that’s wonderful, darlin! I’m so glad you came to that conclusion,” she smiled proudly.

“So, I have something to ask you,” he said, taking her hand in his.

Missy’s heart stopped for a moment. “What is it?” she asked breathlessly.

“I’m going to have my father transported home for his 85
th
birthday. My brother still lives in our family home, and wants to honor Dad with a birthday party. Chances are that he won’t even know where he is, much less that it’s his birthday, but it’ll give people who know and love him the chance to honor him. I would very much like it if you would go with me to New York for the party. Maybe meeting you will cause my siblings to view me differently,” he smiled at her tenderly.

“Oh, Chas, I’d love to go, of course! When is it?”

“Next week. Will you be able to get away for a few days?” he asked hopefully.

“I’ll make certain that I can, even if I have to close one of the shops,” she exclaimed, delighted at the prospect of meeting his family. “Oh…and Chas?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

“I hope your dad likes cupcakes,” she winked.

Missy bought a new dress for Chas’s father’s birthday party, and packed several different pairs of shoes, along with a good portion of her wardrobe, for the trip to New York. They were arriving at the family home a day ahead of time so that Missy could bake cupcakes for the party, and Chas could make an attempt at reconciliation with his brother and sister. The only qualm that Missy had about taking the trip with her handsome detective was that she’d be away from her beloved golden retriever, Toffee, and her newest furry addition to the family, Bitsy a tiny, delightful malti-poo who had literally been launched at her by her irresponsibly selfish previous owner. The dogs would be in good hands though, Missy’s carefree friend, Echo had offered to take them in, promising lots of love, kisses, exercise and treats.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach when Chas steered their rented car onto a private lane which wound through what looked like a mythical forest. The well paved road was edged in brown brick, and the grassy area between the road and the trees was so well-manicured that it appeared to have been hand-trimmed with sewing shears. They rounded a bend and a mansion rose up in front of them, imposing in its grandeur. It was hard to imagine sweet, non-pretentious Chas growing up in such a place.

Pulling into the circular drive flanked with topiaries and giant urns of colorful flowers, Missy felt a sudden urge to flee. A woman of humble origins, she’d attended some nice functions at the LaChance country club, but had no experience whatsoever with an opulent setting like this one. Seeing her face drain of color, Chas reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly, turning off the car and coming around to her side to open her door. A uniformed butler appeared as though on cue, and greeted Chas with a smile and a handshake, heading for the trunk to take care of their bags.

Missy stood uncertainly on the brick herringbone driveway, and, seeing her hesitation, Chas grabbed her by the hand with an encouraging smile, leading her up the wide steps to a massive set of mahogany doors.

Chas’s family home reminded Missy of a grand museum. The spaces were opulent and cavernous, and she was afraid to touch anything. Everything she saw, and everyone that she met intimidated her, but she was determined to be a positive force in reuniting Chas with his siblings. In her mind, there was nothing that a little bit of food and southern hospitality couldn’t overcome. She was more than a bit nervous about meeting them at the party tomorrow, but would hopefully be able to work out some of her anxiety in the kitchen tonight, making a special recipe that she had created for the occasion.

Chas had instructed her to pack a couple of swim suits, and as soon as the butler had delivered their bags to their rooms, which were across the hall from one another, she changed into her suit, feeling utterly naked in the tastefully one piece, and imagining that the ancestral portraits in the main hall were looking down upon her with judgement as they made their way to the Grecian pool in the back of the house.

At Chas’s request, a housemaid brought out a lovely crystal pitcher of Sangria, along with a tray of meats, cheeses and snacks for them to enjoy in the poolside cabana. The perceptive detective thought that a bit of strong drink might go a long way toward helping an uncharacteristically nervous Missy to relax.

The cool water was a refreshing relief after the canned air of traveling, and the humid heat of a summer day in New York State, and the couple laughed, splashed and swam, finally relaxing a bit. The snacks and Sangria worked their magic when Missy and Chas cooled off on loungers in the shade of the cabana, and both of them were able to feel more at peace in the ostentatious environment.

“The house is really beautiful,” she offered, trying to be positive. “And the pool was just what I needed after a day of travel.”

Chas smiled at the beautiful woman beside him, feeling a bit guilty that he had brought her into a potentially uncomfortable situation. “It is beautiful,” he agreed, nodding. “I only wish that it was more welcoming,” he remarked, thinking of Missy’s cozy Victorian and his own sprawling ranch home.

“People are what make a house a home,” she reminded him gently. “And hopefully, this is the start of you feeling like a member of your own family again.”

The detective frowned. “We’ll see about that,” he said skeptically.

Missy could hear the sounds of the party outside from her spot in the anteroom, where the food was being staged by the caterer. She had been thrilled to make her special Pomegranate Pleaser cupcakes the night before, the familiar steps of creating her cakes serving as a warm reminder of home. She had spoken with the caterer, a rather stand-offish French man who was in his mid-50’s, and let him know that her cupcakes were to be presented as part of the dessert buffet. The fussy man was more than resistant until Chas came in and made him understand, in no uncertain terms, that either Missy’s cupcakes were included, or he was fired.

Her stomach churned as she realized that there was now nothing left to be done with her cupcakes and it was time to enter the ballroom to join the party. She had met Chas’s father last night after dinner, finding the dignified gentleman very sweet. He was mostly lucid, particularly at first, but slipped rather quickly into his own world, and retired to his room to rest up for the big day. She still had yet to meet Reginald or Olivia, and hoped against hope that she could help Chas to reconcile with them.

Self-consciously smoothing down the full skirt of her sleeveless, slate-blue party dress, she took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping into the ballroom and almost crashing into a man who happened to be on the other side of the door.

“You really should be more careful when you enter a room,” the pinch-faced blond man sniffed with disdain. “But since you nearly ran me down, my dear, the least you can do is get me another drink,” he waved his glass in her face. Missy was too shocked to speak, and stood with her mouth open, trying to think of a polite response. “Come, come, dear, don’t gawk,” the man pushed the glass into her hand. “Run along and fetch me a gin and tonic. Extra lime,” he ordered.

Missy looked at the heavy crystal glass in her hand, and back at the rude man who had imposed it upon her, finally finding her tongue. “I don’t work here,” she said politely, realizing that he had probably mistaken her for a member of the catering staff since she had emerged from the serving center. She handed him back the glass, which he took, looking at it as though it was contaminated.

“Really?” he said, seeming skeptical. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Oh, right. I’m Missy…uh…Melissa Gladstone,” she held out her hand.

He looked at her hand and ignored it, leaving her to drop it awkwardly to her side. “Gladstone? I don’t believe I’m familiar with the Gladstones,” he sneered, looking down his nose.

Missy stifled an unkind response and tried again. “I’m…accompanying Chas Beckett,” she explained, hoping that the mention of his name would cause the officious little man to be at least a bit more cordial. Unfortunately it seemed to have the opposite effect.

Looking as though light had finally dawned, the blond man remarked, “Ah…I see. The black sheep has brought with him a little goat, how precious.”

Missy’s blood boiled. As usual, when her ire was up, her southern accent came out even more profoundly. “How dare you?” she challenged. “I am a guest in this home and I will not tolerate you sneering down your pointy little nose at me or at Chas. I don’t know who you are, Mr. Fancy Pants, but you need to remember your manners,” she huffed, hands on hips.

“Is there a problem here?” Chas’s deep voice inquired from behind her.

Missy gave the snooty man in front of her a measured look before responding. “Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied, daring the arrogant beast to contradict her.

“Giles,” Chas inclined his head in a cool greeting.

“Beckett,” the man replied, his tone laced with seething hostility, but showing deference. Refusing to even glance at Missy, he turned away and headed toward the open bar.

“You okay?” Chas quietly asked the simmering cauldron of indignation beside him.

“That man,” she said through her teeth, “needs to learn some manners.” She stared after the insufferable guest, eyes narrowed.

“His mother has been trying for years, there’s no hope,” he quipped with a slight smile. “Is there anything that I need to take care of?”

“No, I’m sorry to distract you. You just enjoy this time with your friends and family,” she apologized, squeezing his bicep.

“Sweet sentiment, but these people are not my friends, and I haven’t had a relationship with my family for quite some time, so this gathering is as much of a challenge for me as it is for you,” he brushed her cheek affectionately with the back of his hand.

“Well, Chas Beckett…what moved Heaven and Earth to get you to darken this fine doorstep again?” a refined, feminine voice inquired, causing both Chas and Missy to turn in search of its origin.

Missy had to force herself to not allow her mouth to drop open in shock at the sight of the stunning redhead in front of her. The woman had enormous green eyes that reminded her of a predatory cat, perfectly manicured nails, and a dress that looked like it cost more than the down payment on Missy’s house. Glancing about, Missy realized that her own simple dress was entirely inappropriate for the gathering. She had selected something that clearly said “garden party,” and the rest of the women had donned garments that screamed, “cocktails with the Queen.” Wanting to run and hide, she instead focused on the woman who was gazing at Chas like an exquisite hors d’oeuvre that she’d like to nibble.

“Hello, Amanda,” Chas said quietly, jaw muscles flexing.

“Who’s your little friend, darling?” she purred, placing her fingertips on Chas’s forearm and gazing at Missy as though she were a fly in the ointment.

Tactfully extricating himself from her touch and moving to Missy’s side, he made the introductions, sounding as though he’d rather be doing anything else. “Melissa Gladstone, may I present Amanda Heatherington. Amanda, may I introduce Melissa Gladstone.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Missy smiled and extended her hand.

“Charmed,” the elegant creature drawled, briefly touching her hand and dropping it as though she wished she had a bottle of sanitizer handy. “So tell me, Melissa, how do you know our dashing Mr. Beckett?” her eyes threw daggers in rapid succession, looking back and forth between Missy and Chas.

“It’s a long story,” Chas interjected before Missy could answer. “Won’t you excuse us?” he faked a smile, and put his hand on Missy’s lower back, guiding her away from the woman.

“Old friend?” Missy asked, when they were out of earshot.

“Something like that,” he responded vaguely. “Would you like a drink?”

“Would I ever!” came the harried response.