Rum Cake Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 8 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) (2 page)

Detective Chas Beckett arrived at the scene via a rear entrance with several LaChance police officers in tow. They hadn’t walked through the ballroom, not wanting to alarm the children as the party concluded. Missy had tried to call and text Ben several times, wanting to know where he was and if he was okay. It had been more than a bit traumatic finding a dead man in his costume. She and Loretta reviewed the course of events with the detective, trying to remember anything that could’ve been of significance. A forensics team had taken over the break room, gathering evidence that would hopefully not only shed some light on what had happened to Ben, but also help determine the identity of the dead man in the clown suit.

“Did either of you see anything that seemed out of the ordinary, or anyone who was behaving oddly?” Chas asked of Missy and Loretta.

Both shook their heads. Missy had been wrapped up in keeping close watch over cupcake consumption, and Loretta had been working the room making sure that everyone was having a good time. The parents of the children in attendance had been in an adjacent, smaller ballroom, having cocktails and appetizers, and were notified that the party was ending sooner than anticipated, but were not given a reason why. Loretta discreetly circulated among the adult guests, looking for unfamiliar faces, but coming up with nothing.

After all of the attendees had gone and the ballroom was deserted, Missy wandered aimlessly, worried sick about Ben, while Chas and his team examined every inch of the space. Loretta ushered out the remaining volunteers, pocketing Beckett’s card in case she remembered anything that might be significant, and Missy reluctantly headed home, first eliciting a promise from Chas that he would come over when he was finished with the investigation.

On a hunch, Missy drove around the parking lot of the hotel looking for Ben’s car, dismayed when she found it sitting in a space near the employee entrance. His car was there, but he was not. She peered in the windows of the little green car, hoping to see some kind of clue, but found nothing that looked out of the ordinary. She texted Chas to tell him about the car, and received his assurance that he would check it out. Pulling out of the hotel parking lot, headed toward home, her phone rang. It was Cheryl, asking if Missy knew when her fiancé, Ben, would be done. Missy gently told her what had happened, clenching her fist and biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying, as the shocked girl sobbed into the phone. Promising that she would call the moment that she heard anything, Missy hung up after making sure that Cheryl was going to be okay. The girl was distraught, but regained control of her emotions, steadfastly refusing to believe that anything awful could have happened to a sweet, loving person like Ben.

Missy’s golden retriever, Toffee, greeted her with usual exuberance when she opened the front door to her cozy lemon-yellow and white Victorian, but immediately picked up on her mistress’s subdued mood and followed her from room to room as she put down her purse and keys, changed into walking clothes and gathered up the leash. Snapping the lead onto the loving animal’s collar, Missy walked her to the park and back in a daze, worried sick about Ben. She knew that Chas would call her as soon as he was done at the hotel, but the waiting seemed endless.

Mechanically, Missy prepared dinner, despite a profound lack of appetite. At this point, she was on automatic pilot, falling back into routine because her thought process was numbed with worry. Stirring a cup of gumbo around and around with her spoon, taking small tastes periodically as she stared into space, she waited for the phone to ring. Eventually, giving in and dumping the untasted portion back into her gumbo pot, she acknowledged that until she had some news, trying to eat was a waste of time and food.

Taking her phone with her, just in case, Missy ran a warm bath, hoping that it would calm her nerves and help her focus, and, although she knew that it was probably not a smart idea on an empty stomach, she poured a glass of mellow Merlot to sip while she bathed. Toffee curled up on a bath mat in the corner of the large bathroom, peering up at her best friend occasionally with concerned chocolate eyes. Finally, after exfoliating, moisturizing and dressing in a clean pair of yoga pants and a loose, comfy sweatshirt, Missy settled into the soft embrace of her overstuffed sofa, fully prepared to pretend to watch a movie, when the text tone on her phone pinged. Snatching it up from the arm of the couch, she saw that the message was from Chas, letting her know that he was on his way.

“So what did you find out?” she demanded, dragging the handsome detective across the threshold and into the kitchen.

He seated himself in the breakfast nook and shook his head, looking frustrated. “Not much at all, unfortunately,” he admitted grimly. “I looked at Ben’s vehicle, and we procured a warrant to get it opened up, but found nothing of significance. There was a discarded cupcake wrapper beside the car that we’re checking for prints and DNA, but, aside from that, our info is limited.”

“What about the poor man in the clown suit? Did you find anything on him?” Missy asked, wide-eyed as she refilled her wine glass. “Would you like some?” she asked holding up her glass.

“No, thanks, I have a feeling that this isn’t over yet this evening,” Chas said, refusing the wine. “We don’t have identification for the deceased yet, we’ll be cross-checking his description with missing persons reports. I know that this is going to upset you, sweetie,” he said, reaching for her hand, “but right now, with the significant lack of evidence that we’ve found, Ben is considered a person of interest in the murder.”

“What?” Missy exclaimed, horrified. “That boy is the kindest, sweetest soul that I know. There is no way in the world that he killed anyone! Do you even know how the man died?” she asked, taking her hand from his gentle grasp.

“Not yet, we’ll have to wait for the autopsy results. If you hear anything from Ben, please let me know right away. I’m as reluctant as you are to believe that he had anything to do with the victim’s death, but he’ll need to be questioned properly, regardless,” Beckett explained.

“Of course,” she nodded. “Chas, honestly, I’m just hoping that whoever did this didn’t hurt Ben too,” she confessed, tears springing to her eyes.

“And I’d be lying if I told you that I didn’t think that it’s a possibility, but let’s not make assumptions. I’m going to do everything that I can to find Ben, and hopefully he’s safe and sound somewhere right now,” the detective said, trying to be optimistic. He stroked the back of Missy’s hand to reassure her, and his phone went off, startling them both. He glanced at the screen and picked up the call immediately. Missy could tell, by the brief questions that he asked, that he was speaking with someone regarding the case, but beyond that, the conversation wasn’t enlightening her at all.

“Where?” Chas asked the caller. “When?” he said, looking at his watch. “Right. I’ll be there in 5 minutes,” he said, and clicked the End button on his phone.

“What is it? What’s going on?” Missy asked, alarmed, as he stood quickly and headed for the front door.

“They found Ben, he’s alive and waiting for questioning down at the station,” Chas replied, his hand on the doorknob. “Stay here, and I’ll let you know what happens,” he directed in a tone meant to discourage further discussion.

“Absolutely not!” Missy insisted, sliding her feet into running shoes that were by the door and reaching for her coat. “I’m coming with you.”

Beckett whirled to face her, trying to keep the frustration from his voice. “Look, sweetie, I know that you love Ben, and that you just want to help, but it would be entirely inappropriate to have you present during questioning. I’m conducting an investigation here, and, as much as I’d like to include you, I have to play by the rules, okay?” he instructed. “I will keep you informed, and you know that I’ll make sure we leave no stone unturned in trying to find the actual murderer, right?”

Missy nodded miserably. “Can you at least give him a hug for me?” she asked plaintively.

“No, I can’t,” Chas replied. “But I’ll certainly let him know that you’re thinking of him, when I have a moment.”

“Thank you,” she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before he left.

“You’re welcome,” the handsome detective kissed her back. “Get some sleep, sweetie, it’s going to be a long night.”

Missy was shocked when Ben showed up at Crème de la Cupcake the next morning, ready to put in a full work day, as though nothing had happened.

“Ben, what are you doing here?” she exclaimed, wrapping him in a bear hug.

“Stocking the cases for opening,” he said, patting her back awkwardly.

Missy pulled back, holding him at arm’s length, examining his face to see if he looked any worse for the wear after what could’ve only been a tremendous ordeal for him. “Are you okay? Tell me what happened!” she said, frowning with concern.

“Umm…I will, but…” he began, hesitant.

“But what? What is it?” his boss interrupted.

“Well, it’s just that, we have this huge line out front and we need to get these people their cupcakes,” he explained, gesturing to the front of the store.

Missy stared at him with surprise and admiration. “Yes we do, don’t we?” she grinned. “Let’s get these folks taken care of, and then you’re going to sit down with me over coffee and cupcakes and tell me all about it.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ben said agreeably, heading for the front door to flip over the Open sign.

Missy’s curiosity clawed at her unbearably as she, Chris and Ben weathered the first massive wave of morning customers, and it seemed like an eternity until the line died down enough that they could finally entrust Chris with the running the front counter on his own.  Grabbing a couple of the Cupcakes of the Day, she instructed Ben to pour two cups of coffee before joining her in the employee break room.

“Mmm…what are these?” Ben asked through a giant mouthful of cupcake.

“My new Orange Dream recipe. I used orange juice in the batter, filled them with vanilla cream cheese, and infused the icing with orange zest,” she answered impatiently. “Now, tell me what happened at the party!”

Still marveling over the cupcake, which tasted just like the orange and vanilla popsicles that he used to buy from the ice cream truck as a kid, Ben took a sip of coffee to wash down the huge bite before responding. “I had taken the big papier mache clown head off and put it on the table in the break room so that I could eat my cupcake and have some of the punch that I snagged before I left, and the next thing I knew, someone really strong had clamped an oddly sweet-smelling cloth over my mouth, and I passed out or something.”

“Oh my goodness, Ben, that’s awful! Did you see who did that to you?” Missy asked, on the edge of her seat.

Swallowing another bite of Orange Dream, the Dellville manager shook his head slowly. “I have no idea. It all happened so fast. He came out of nowhere.”

Missy frowned, thinking. “So, this happened right when you sat down? You didn’t have a chance to eat your cupcake?” she demanded.

“Nope, as far as I know, it’s still sitting on the table in the break room,” he shrugged. “Why?”

“Because Chas…er, Detective Beckett said that they found the empty cupcake paper dropped beside your car. So if you didn’t eat it, maybe the killer did,” she deduced. “And if that’s the case, hopefully they’ll get some idea as to his identity from it.”

“Wait…” Ben seemed suddenly alarmed. “Killer? What are you talking about?”

Missy raised her eyebrows in surprise. “They didn’t tell you? Oh my goodness,” she muttered, wondering if she had done something wrong by letting the cat out of the bag with Ben. Well, there was no hiding it now. “They found an unidentified man in the break room after you went missing. He was dead, and was wearing your clown costume.”

“That’s why they told me that they were holding the costume for evidence,” the young man mused. “Wait…they don’t think that I did it, do they?” he asked, horrified at the thought.

Missy’s face answered his question, and his shoulders sagged. “Where were you, Ben? What happened to you after you were drugged?”

He shrugged miserably. “I have no idea. All I know is that I woke up laying under a bush in a park in Smithville.”

“Smithville? That’s at least 40 miles from here! How did you end up there? And why?” she wondered, puzzled.

“That’s what I was wondering. I was still a little woozy from whatever was used to make me pass out, but I knew that something weird was going on, so I called 911 and the police came and picked me up. They dropped me off at the police station in LaChance and I spent the next few hours answering a bunch of questions that made no sense,” he recounted. “Makes sense now,” he sighed. “You know I could never hurt anyone, don’t you, Ms. G.?”

“Of course I know that, Ben,” she reassured the rattled young man. “But we need to think about who would’ve done this, and why. Do you have anyone who is mad at you?”

“Not that I know of,” he shook his head. “I do well in my classes, but not so well that I wreck the curve. Maybe some guy who has a crush on Cheryl found out that I proposed and freaked out?” he guessed, clutching at straws.

“Maybe,” Missy frowned. She leaned forward, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Whatever happened, Ben, Chas will figure it out. The best thing that you can do is to just keep living your life one day at a time until the truth comes out.”

He nodded slowly, the reality of his situation hitting hard. “Do you mind if Chris closes up without me today?” he asked quietly. “I really just want to go talk to Cheryl and let her know what’s going on.”

“Of course, honey,” Missy agreed without hesitation. “She should be done closing up the LaChance shop by the time you drive over. Go ahead and go, Chris and I can manage closing here,” she stood.

“Thanks,” he said, head down, giving her a quick hug on his way out. Missy sadly watched him go, knowing exactly what it felt like to be mistakenly accused. She silently vowed to do whatever it took to exonerate the conscientious young man.