Devil's Food Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 10 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) (3 page)

Missy was relieved to have Chas mostly to herself as she sipped at her vodka tonic and began to relax. Party guests wandered by and introduced themselves, curious about the newcomer in the Beckett household. Roughly halfway through her second drink, a dark-haired man with Chas’s unmistakably bright blue eyes approached, seeming cocky but wary.

“Chas, old boy, it’s been far too long,” the man who was clearly the younger brother said, extending his hand.

Chas shook it, responding quietly, “Good to see you, Reggie.”

“You must be Melissa,” Reginald, who was a shorter, less handsome version of his lantern-jawed elder brother observed, smiling cordially.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Missy extended her hand, charmed when he kissed it, but a bit uncomfortable when he held onto it for a moment too long.

“Your accent is delightful,” he remarked, letting his gaze travel over her body long enough that she wanted to hide behind Chas.

“Is it that obvious?” she asked, blushing.

“We don’t often get to meet a genuine southern belle this far north,” he teased lightly, causing her blush to deepen.

“How’s Father holding up?” Chas interrupted quietly.

“He’s still upstairs. Chalmers will bring him down just before the cake is presented. When the orchestra starts, we’ll all sing to him, the guests will have a chance to come by and shake his hand, and then he’s off to bed and the dancing will start,” Reggie reported.

Chas nodded slowly. “Good then. Has Olivia arrived?”

His brother chuckled. “You know Livvy, she’ll get here when the moment is right to make the biggest entrance, so I expect her to breeze in just as Father is being seated. All eyes will be on her when she throws her arms about him in an effusive expression of devotion.”

Chas made a face and nodded again.

Reginald gave Missy a look that made her rethink wearing a scoop-neck dress. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, lovely lady, I’ll look forward to a dance with you later,” he promised, moving away to circulate among the guests.

She and Chas watched him depart. “He seems…nice,” she offered, not encouraged by the serious look on the detective’s face.

“Of course he does. Everyone always thinks so. His manners are impeccable, and his grooming is immaculate, it’s his integrity that could use a little work,” he sighed, frowning.

Reginald’s jaded prediction came true – Olivia Beckett Grant arrived just as her father was being seated, and literally threw her arms around the parent whom she never visited, kissing him soundly on the cheek, much to his delight. The elderly patriarch smiled at the song and the ensuing applause, his eyes scanning the room filled with family and friends. A long line formed to pay tribute to the aged tycoon, and it soon became evident that the festivities were a bit beyond the capabilities of the fragile guest of honor. Guests applauded the gentleman once again as his manservant Chalmers, who had been with the family longer than Chas had been alive, spirited him away to rest.

“Chas, darling!” Olivia gushed, pulling her brother into her embrace.

“Hello Livvy,” the detective answered, despite the stranglehold that she had on his neck.

Pulling back, she looked him up and down critically. “You look pale, dearest, are you eating? I bet you haven’t even been to the Caribbean this year for some fresh air. You really must take better care of yourself,” she admonished, staring up at him from her diminutive height.

Chas seemed more amused than annoyed when he responded. “Actually, yes, Missy and I were in the Caribbean a few months ago.”

The tiny brunette turned. “So you must be Melissa,” she said, clearly inspecting her from head to toe. “My brother speaks highly of you,” she observed, with little expression.

“How kind of you to say. He speaks highly of you as well,” Missy smiled uncertainly.

Livvy raised an eyebrow in her brother’s direction. “Hmpf, I just bet he does,” she drawled sarcastically.

Missy was confused. She had thought that Reggie had more of an issue with his brother than Olivia, yet Reggie had been nothing but polite, and Livvy seemed positively bent upon getting a rise out of her rather taciturn eldest sibling.

“Father certainly seemed to enjoy your visit,” Chas observed.

“Don’t judge me,” his sister retorted. “Some of us have commitments which preclude spending hours sitting in that dreadful nursing home with someone who half the time doesn’t know we even exist.”

Missy’s mouth fell open in astonishment at the woman’s callous disregard for her aging father. Was everyone in this house an insufferably entitled brat? No wonder Chas had left. A man of his honor and integrity would be nothing but a target for abuse in this lust and greed-filled environment. He was saved from replying to his sister’s horrific statement by an ear-piercing scream coming from just outside the ballroom, in the corridor which led to the front foyer.

“Stay here,” he directed. Missy nodded silently, her heart pounding.

A servant had come to lead Missy to her room after Chas had gone to investigate the scream in the corridor, and she sat nervously on the edge of a cream-colored velvet chaise, waiting to hear from him. Hours later, well after Missy had changed out of her party dress and into comfortable yoga pants and a light sweatshirt, longing for soft, comfy attire that reminded her of home, there was a soft knock on her door, and Chas came in, looking grim.

“Chas, what happened?” she asked, alarmed at his expression.

“There was a death, and it looks as though it was a murder,” he said, jaw muscles flexing.

“Oh my goodness, that’s awful! Who died?” she asked, her hands at her throat.

“His name was Giles Heatherington, the gentleman with whom you were arguing when I interrupted your conversation,” he sighed, referring to the blond man who had insulted both Missy and Chas during his brief conversation with her.

“Oh my,” Missy murmured, distressed that her last interaction, with a man who was now dead, had been so unpleasant.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, there were witnesses who saw you and Giles having an altercation, and now the local police want to speak with you. And Missy, you should know…he was found with one of your half-eaten cupcakes in his hand,” Chas finished gravely.

“Oh, that’s awful,” she shook her head sadly. “But why on earth would they want to talk to me? I didn’t know that man at all.”

Chas looked at her for a moment. “They’re interviewing everyone who might have a motive to kill Giles. Someone snapped a photo of the look on your face when you were dressing him down for whatever undoubtedly vile thing that he said to you, and anonymously sent it to the police about an hour after the murder.”

Missy gasped in horror, then stopped to think for a moment, frowning. “Wait just a minute, doesn’t that seem just the least bit…contrived?”

The detective nodded. “Yeah, I mentioned that it smacked of a setup, and the lead detective here told me that I was too closely involved to be allowed to participate in the investigation.”

“So, they’re shutting you out?” she asked, dread creeping into her stomach like lead.

“I’m afraid so. For now anyway, but I know some highly influential people in this town. I should be able to gain access soon – I just have to make some phone calls, call in some favors,” Chas replied. “Don’t worry,” he said, taking her into his arms. “We’ll get this figured out. These people are strangers, suspicious of anyone who isn’t a member of the inner circle, but you and I both know that you didn’t do anything wrong, and somehow, I’ll prove it to the rest of them,” he assured her, a look of raw determination coloring his handsome features.

Chas and Missy had set up shop on the patio, near the pool. The detective had been on the phone and on his laptop all morning, making contact with local judges and officials, trying to receive the go-ahead to do some investigative work on the murder case. Missy flipped idly through the pages of a magazine, then tried to read a novel that she’d brought along, with little success. The detective had elected to work in his swim trunks, planning to take a swim break once he’d made some headway, but Missy felt far too exposed in a swimsuit at the moment, and selected a simple, mint-green sundress that tied at the shoulders to wear while keeping Chas company.

She had wandered back into the vast commercial kitchen upon realizing that attempting to read her novel was a lost cause when her mind kept wandering to the party, Chas’s family, and being suspected of murder. She had made fast friends with the cook, a jolly woman in her 60’s, and was soon returning to the pool area with a tray of snacks and lemonade in hopes of refreshing the hardworking detective. When she stepped onto the patio, she was surprised to see that Chas was on a lounger, poolside, speaking with the gorgeous, leggy redhead from the party. She approached them quietly, setting the tray of snacks on a side table next to Chas’s chair, and was dismayed to see that the woman was clearly distraught about something.

“There you are, you vile wretch!” the woman hissed at Missy through her teeth.

Missy was entirely taken aback. “Excuse me?” she said, more as a warning than a question.

“Don’t act innocent with me, you hayseed simpleton,” the redhead spat like a wet feline.

The woman’s utter rudeness, coupled with Missy’s lack of sleep and constant state of stress, prompted a defensive response. “Now you just listen here, little Miss Thing…” she began, hands on hips.

Just as Chas tried to intervene with a quiet, but firm, “Ladies, let’s not do this,” the snooty redhead stepped forward and pushed Missy with all of her might. Stunned, Missy’s arms flailed as she balanced precariously on the edge of the pool deck before plummeting into the cool water, fully dressed. The rude woman sneered in satisfaction as Chas leaped to his feet, jumping into the water, and Missy surfaced, sputtering and furious. She turned on her heel, and sashayed out of the pool area, hips swaying, as Chas helped Missy to the stairs leading to the pool deck.

Missy mounted the stairs as quickly as she could, despite being hindered by a wet, soggy, sundress, and moved to follow, saying, “Now you just wait right there, honey!”

Chas held her back by the arms, murmuring in her ear, “Let her go. Just let her go.”

Missy struggled at first, wanting to break free of his grasp and run down the hateful woman who had pushed her into the pool, but once she saw that her efforts were useless in the face of Chas’s  iron grasp, she stopped struggling and whirled to face him.

“Why didn’t you let me at her?” she demanded, eyes flashing. “I fully intend to give that woman a piece of my mind and a lesson or two in manners,” she fumed.

“You obviously don’t recognize who she is,” Chas observed quietly.

“What do you mean I don’t rec…?” Missy sputtered angrily. “Wait…who is she?” her eyes narrowed.

“You met her last night,” the detective reminded her. “Amanda Heatherington. Giles Heatherington was her husband.”

Understanding dawned, and Missy’s anger quickly ebbed. “She thinks that I killed her husband,” she said dully, gazing at the ground, ashamed. Chas nodded, and she burst into tears. “Oh Chas, I should never have come here. I don’t belong, and I just want to go home,” she cried, finally expressing all of the angst that she had felt since her arrival at the imposing mansion.

“Don’t be silly,” he chastised gently. “This has nothing to do with you, and I’m working on proving that. I’ll be getting copies of the evidence and the autopsy report. We’ll get this all cleared up and everything will be fine, I promise,” he hugged her to his bare, bronzed chest.

“I just want to go home,” she whispered.

“Me too, sweet Missy, but for now, we can’t.”

**

Chas walked Missy to her room so that she could change, and when she said she was going to rest for a bit, he headed back to the pool to continue working on the case. He was compiling a list of people who were at the party that he wanted to speak with regarding the murder, and would most likely be busy for the rest of the day.

Changing into jeans and a light summer top, she flopped back onto the satin-clad bed, her heart heavy. She had been secure in the thought that she and Chas had some sort of future together, although what that looked like exactly was something they’d not yet discussed, both hesitating to ruin a good thing by over-thinking it. Now, however, she saw that they really did come from very different worlds, and she wondered what kind of impact that would have on forming some type of future. How on earth could she hope to compete with the society girls that she’d seen casting fawning glances in the handsome detective’s direction?

Perhaps when they returned home to sweet, uncomplicated, LaChance, Louisiana, she should walk away, leaving her beloved Chas to explore more realistic and appropriate options for a mate. By dating her, he’d been slumming, and had just been too sweet and polite to acknowledge or mention it. Her cheeks burned with humiliation, and tears coursed down her cheeks as she contemplated doing the most difficult thing she’d ever have to do. The stress and exhaustion of the day caught up with her, and she fell asleep weeping for the man to whom she’d never had the chance to express her love.

Missy awoke, feeling though her head was stuffed with cotton. She had no idea how long she’d slept, but her growling stomach clued her in to the fact that, however long it was, she apparently had missed a meal or two. There was a soft knock at the door, and she sat up slowly, blinking.

“Pardon me, lass, it’s Maggie, might I come in for a bit?” she heard the stout, middle-aged, Irish maid inquire politely.

“Of course, come in, Maggie,” she called through the door, not yet steady enough to move off of the bed.

The maid came in bearing a tray with a bowl of soup, a basket of bread, and a pitcher of iced tea. “Oh, darlin, ya look like you’ve been through somethin, alright,” the sweet woman clucked, shaking her head and setting the heavy silver tray on the nightstand. “We need to get some food and drink in ya, dear. You’ll feel better in no time,” she asserted. Looking around as though to make certain that no one could hear her, Maggie leaned in and said in a low voice, “And if ya need somethin’ a lil stronger than that tea, I can help ya with that as well.”

Missy smiled wanly at the woman’s kindness, thanking her. The homemade soup was delicious and actually did make her feel a bit better. She dunked chunks of freshly baked bread in the broth and nibbled at them, quieting the gurgles in her tummy. Maggie bustled about the room, opening the curtains to let in the sun, and humming to herself while she tidied up.

“You know, lil Missy, there’s folks in the kitchen who saw some things that might help ya out with yer dilemma,” she offered casually, taking the empty soup bowl and placing it on the tray.

Missy’s ears perked up and she sat up straighter, leaning against the tufted head board. “What do you mean, Maggie?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Well, lass, ya dinna hear it from me, but there’s folks saying that the deceased had quite the spat with his missus before the festivities, on account of Mr. Charles Beckett,” she raised her eyebrows pointedly before resuming dusting the window sills.

“Amanda and Giles fought about Chas before the party? But why on earth would that happen? He hasn’t been back here in a very long time,” Missy pointed out.

“Ohhhh…lass,” the maid shook her head, seeming to pity the fragile-looking woman in front of her. “You don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?” Missy asked, baffled.

The woman sighed, clasping her hands together in front of her and leaning in confidentially. “Mr. Charles…he was supposed to marry that fiery woman,” she grimaced in disapproval.

Missy’s heart plummeted to her stomach. “Chas and Amanda were engaged?” she whispered, the color draining from her face.

“Not formally,” the maid explained in a hushed voice. “It was more of an understandin’ between the two families. Lotsa money between those two families, dear,” she nodded sadly.

“I see,” Missy murmured, destroyed.

“But, don’t you fret none, lass,” Maggie reassured her. “I know the look that Mr. Charles gets when he looks at you, and he ain’t never had that look for that evil woman.” She collected the remains of Missy’s lunch on the tray, placed a glass of iced tea on a coaster beside the bed, and left the room quietly, sensing the distress of its occupant. “You let me know if ya need anythin’ at all, lass,” she instructed with compassion, closing the door behind her.