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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.
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 1
One thing that Cupcakes in Paradise and The Beach House B&B owner, Melissa Gladstone-Beckett dearly loved was any type of holiday. Decorating the Inn with the current holiday theme, and creating new cupcake flavors that were an homage to the occasion were practices that she engaged in with great delight, and today was no exception for the petite blonde.
She was just putting the finishing touches on a batch of Valentine’s Day cupcakes that she’d created from scratch, and would soon be using her best friend Echo as a taste-tester for the vegan version of the festively decorated cakes. The flame-haired former Californian was always eager to help Missy out by acting as a “guinea pig” for her new recipes. They had coffee and cupcakes several mornings a week, and were typically brought up to speed on all pertinent gossip in their little town of Calgon, Florida by their mutual friend, and Echo’s potential fiancé, artist Phillip “Kel” Kellerman, who was at a showing in New York at present.
Kel had lived his entire life in Calgon, and his art was world-renowned. He knew everyone and everything about their sleepy beachside oasis, and delighted in keeping relative newcomers, Echo and Missy, informed. Echo had been dating the artist for a while now, and he’d recently proposed. The free-spirited candle-maker had yet to make up her mind as to whether or not she was going to accept his proposal, but he was prepared to wait patiently for as long as he had to.
The cupcakes this morning were splendid little works of art. Missy had baked heart-shaped red velvet cupcakes, filled them with cinnamon cream cheese, and topped them with a fluffy whipped frosting, adding sparkling red sugar crystals and red-hot cinnamon candy dots as a final flourish. They were encased in specially-ordered pink foil heart shaped cups, and made quite a striking presentation.
“Oh my goodness, it smells fantastic in here!” Echo remarked, coming into the kitchen of Cupcakes in Paradise and drinking in the heavenly scent.
“What perfect timing,” Missy replied, recapping the cylinder of tiny red-hot candies. “I just finished and I can’t wait for you to try these.”
“They’re almost too pretty to eat,” she observed. “Which ones are vegan?”
“The ones with pink sugar instead of red. Grab a couple for you and a couple for me, and I’ll join you at our table as soon as I put these in the display case.”
“Sounds good,” Echo nodded, reaching for a plate. “I already started the coffee.”
“You’re an angel,” Missy smiled gratefully at her friend.
“Then why did my mother always call me a little devil?” she tossed over her shoulder with a mischievous grin, on her way to their favorite bistro table in the front of the shop.
Missy chuckled, shaking her head as she followed behind her best friend with two large trays of Valentine cupcakes. She’d already stocked the rest of the display cases, so it wouldn’t take long at all to put the specialty cakes in place.
“So, do you and Kel have big plans for Valentine’s Day?” she asked, deftly arranging the cupcakes inside the glass cases. The shop was ablaze in color, with pink, red and white garland and lights decorating the windows and heart cutouts floating on fishing line above the eating area. Echo had provided a selection of her handcrafted pink and red candles for Missy to sell in the shop, that were scented like cupcakes, and they’d been flying off of the shelves faster than Missy could restock them.
“Other than going to your banquet at the Inn, no. With my new shop opening on Friday, I haven’t really had time to even think about the holiday,” Echo shrugged.
“I’m so excited for you,” Missy beamed, joining her at the table and picking up her steaming mug of coffee. “This will be such a fun new adventure for you.”
“It’s amazing, people have been emailing me through my website asking for details about the grand opening. I’ve created a marketing list, and if everyone that I’ve emailed actually shows up, I could have quite a crowd there on opening day.”
“Do you need to borrow Spencer on Friday?”
“If you don’t mind,” Echo replied. “He’s been such a big help already.”
“I don’t mind. I think he enjoys the creative outlet.”
Spencer Bengal was a young, incredibly handsome, Marine veteran who worked as a handyman, server, driver and bartender at the Inn, as well as helping Missy, and her dashing and clever husband, Detective Chas Beckett, with the cupcake shop, and any other errands and tasks that needed to be done. In the past few months, he’d also been spending his evenings at Echo’s candle-making studio, crafting candles alongside her, to help beef up the inventory before her new shop opened.
“I hope so. Does he have a date for the Valentine’s banquet? He seemed to be a bit smitten with Fiona when he saw her,” Echo waggled her eyebrows.
“Well, he volunteered to work at the banquet, so I don’t think he has any plans to attend. You know Spencer, he has a very measured and deliberate approach to everything. He’s not one to spontaneously just ask someone out without careful consideration,” Missy smiled fondly.
Spencer had become like a son to her and Chas. Fiona was a young woman who recently started working for Echo’s neighbor, Tim Eckels, at the mortuary that he’d recently purchased, after moving to Calgon from the Keys.
“That’s true. I just can’t help but wish that he’d find someone special, he’s such a sweetheart. I want him to be happy.”
“I think in his own way, he is happy. He just does things in his own meticulous and responsible way. When he finds the right person, he’ll know it,” Missy assured her friend.
“I sure hope so. I’ve found the right person and still don’t know what to do about it,” Echo mused, thinking about Kel’s recent proposal.
“Chicken,” Missy teased, sipping her coffee.
“Bawk, bawk.” Echo bit into her cupcake, her eyes closing at the sweet, creamy goodness.
Chapter 2
Fiona McCamish gazed at her reflection in the cracked mirror over her bathroom sink. She’d gotten a complete makeover with Echo and Missy last week, in order to prepare for her first day as a Funerary Services Representative at Memorial Mortuary. When she’d gone to the new owner, the quiet and reserved Tim Eckels, to ask for a job, she’d been tol
d in a very polite but firm manner, that the wild tangle of black hair, dockcings, worn clothing and combat boots that she wore, would not be appropriate in a mortuary setting.
Missy and Echo had supervised the purchase of a new wardrobe, including shoes and accessories, courtesy of a clothing allowance from Tim, along with a trip to the cosmetics counter and the hair salon. The end result had been a fresh-looking, naturally pretty appearance that had essentially rendered Spencer speechless when he saw her in the cupcake shop.
Fiona smiled at her reflection. She knew that, inside, she was still the same brash, young “goth” girl, but no one who saw her looking like this would believe it. She smoothed the front of her plum-colored pant suit, tied an impressionistic silk scarf around her neck, and secured pink pearl earrings in her ears. She sprayed her perfectly coiffed ash-blonde hair into place, and checked the light application of makeup, nodding with satisfaction. She no longer looked “scary,” and would be able to approach potential clients without having to endure judgmental side-glances.
**
Timothy Eckels was deeply absorbed in the most recent issue of Mortuary Monthly magazine, and jumped just a bit when Fiona greeted him from the doorway of his office. He was glad that he’d been able to hire the determined young woman, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that she now looked perfectly acceptable, despite the fact that he had admired her nonchalant raw beauty in its former state.
Tim loved the artistry of preparing the deceased for their final presentation, but was uncomfortable with the more “people-centric” aspects of his business. Once she learned the ropes, Fiona would deal with making all of the arrangements for his clients, taking them through the funeral process, and answering any questions that they might have, freeing him up to create his masterpieces of death.
“Well?” she asked, hands on hips.
Tim cocked his head to the side, and pushed his coke-bottle glasses up his nose with a forefinger.
“Well…what?” he blinked at her.
Fiona arched an eyebrow at her new boss. “Really, Timmy?” she asked, shaking her head.
“Don’t call me that,” he continued to blink at her.
“Fine, Timothy. Don’t you notice anything different about me?” she challenged, holding her arms out to the sides in a pose.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I got my makeover,” she said slowly, amused and exasperated at the same time.
Tim looked her up and down, appraising her without expression.
“Oh, so you did,” he nodded.
“Is that it?” she demanded. “Aren’t you going to say that I look fabulous…or at least presentable for meeting clients, or something? I mean, how is it possible that you didn’t notice how different I look?” she crossed her arms and tapped her foot, staring at him, incredulous.
“Externalities on the living seem sort of…irrelevant. I don’t see your clothes and hair and whatever…I just see you. To me, you’re the same no matter what you’re wearing. I only care about the appearance of the dead, because their appearance is all they have left for their families when they say goodbye.”
Fiona was silent for a moment, her respect for her strange new boss growing by leaps and bounds.
“I get it,” she said softly, the corners of her mouth turning up in a faint smile. “So, what do we have for today?” she asked, plopping down into one of the club chairs across the desk from him.
“Well, no bodies have come in today,” Tim replied, seeming disappointed. “So I’ll show you what things need to be done when new clients come in, and then you can take the afternoon off, if you’d like.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I beg your pardon?” he cocked his head again, looking confused by her question.
“What are you going to do after we’re done with my training for the day?” she repeated, picking up a paperweight shaped like a headstone and tossing it back and forth from one hand to the other.
“Don’t do that.”
She sighed and put the tiny tombstone down.
“Well?”
“Well…what?”
“What are you doing later?” she demanded impatiently.
“I…why?” the mortician’s eyes narrowed.
“Because I think that you do nothing but work, and focus on things related to your work, so you need a break,” she looked at him pointedly.
“I…no,” he shook his head, befuddled. No one had ever spoken to him as frankly and openly as this bold creature, and he didn’t know what to make of it.
“Yes. Timothy, when is the last time you did something fun?” Fiona challenged, leaned forward.
“I…well, there was the preparation of Mr. Smith’s remains…” he began, confused.
“No. I mean when is the last time that you did something fun that had nothing to do with your work?”
“Oh. Well. I made a Key Lime pie last night. My neighbor can’t eat them, because she only eats vegetables,” he muttered, looking sad.
“I love Key Lime pie…but that’s not my point. You need to get out and experience life outside of the mortuary, Timothy,” Fiona insisted.
“I can make you a pie tonight.”
“Yes, do that, but before that, we’re going to do something fun.”
Tim looked positively alarmed, and reached for the comfort of his magazine.
“Oh, I don’t think…” he began.
“Good, don’t think. I’m going to go make a phone call, and after we’re done with training, you’re going to come out with me and have some fun. Think of it as a team building exercise,” she grinned.
“I don’t like teams…or exercise,” the shy mortician mumbled.
“Well, suck it up, Buttercup, because this is happening.”
Chapter 3
Timothy Eckels looked decidedly uncomfortable walking down the dock to the fishing boat that awaited him. He hated wearing shorts, and tended to burn quite badly when exposed to direct sunlight. There was a rumpled plaid hat on his head, he wore a long-sleeved, button-down cotton shirt to cover his arms, and had smeared a generous amount of coconut-scented sunscreen across his ears, neck and nose.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Fiona laughed, twining her arm through his. She was pale, like Tim, but looked stunning in her one-piece black swimsuit and denim cut offs. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and the only jewelry that she wore was a pair of stud earrings that looked like little silver skulls.
“Wow, Fi, you look awesome!” Andrew Koslowski, the twenty-something owner of the rental boat exclaimed.
“Thanks, Andy. You’re not so bad yourself,” she grinned, patting the tanned young man’s sculpted abs. “This is Timmy.”
Tim stared at her with disdain. “Timothy,” he said, shaking the hand that the young man offered.
“Good to meet you, dude. You sure you’re up for fishing? You look a little nervous,” the laid-back youth observed.
“No,” Tim replied, blinking at Fiona.
“He’ll be fine,” she waved breezily. “He just hasn’t had fun in so long that he’s forgotten how,” she poked her reluctant companion in the arm and he recoiled slightly.
Andrew watched the exchange with amusement. “Chillax, my man. It’s all good. It’ll just be you and the water. You know how to swim, right?”
“Yes,” Tim looked warily at the boat as an older man hopped down from it onto the dock.
“Here’s the man,” Andrew beckoned for the captain to join them. “Fiona, Timmy, this is Captain Marco.”
“Polo!” Fiona sang out with a giggle.
“Never heard that one before,” the grizzled fisherman grunted.
“Timothy,” Tim said, miffed at having been introduced as Timmy.
“You two ever been on a boat before?” Captain Marco appraised them, eyes narrowed.
“Yep,” Fiona nodded.
“Yes,” Tim stared him down.
“Good, then let’s get going. We only have
a few hours of daylight left,” he ordered, stalking back down the dock.
“Is he always like this?” Fiona asked Andrew.
“Yeah, he’s alright. He just relates better to the ocean than he does to people, you know?”
“Yes,” Tim nodded slowly, brightening a bit.
“You two have fun,” Andrew raised a hand in farewell. “Hey Fi, you wanna grab some tacos when you get back?” he called after them.
“Nah, I’m good,” she waved, not bothering to turn around.
Tim however, turned around briefly, but long enough to see the dark look that passed over Andrew’s tanned features like a cloud.
**
“That’s right, you get off this boat and don’t come back!” Captain Marco thundered as Tim hopped down from the side of the boat onto the dock, clearly angry. “You’ll never ride with me again, I can tell you that,” he called after the mortician.
“Hey man, what’s going on,” Andrew rose from his lawn chair as Tim stormed by.
Tim raised an eyebrow at the lad and continued on his way, as Captain Marco helped Fiona onto the dock. The young woman looked like she was valiantly trying to suppress a laugh, and the captain had a face like a thundercloud.
“What’s up dude?” Andrew asked as Fiona trotted past him, trying to catch up with Tim.
“That weirdo gutted and fileted our catch all over the main deck while I was in the Head,” he grumbled.
“All of them? Geez, man, how long were you in there?” Andrew teased, heading toward the boat to survey the mess.
“Not as long as he was. He went in after I got out and clogged the durn thing,” Marco ranted, sounding like he needed to catch his breath. “And that piece of work he was traveling with thought that it was all just so funny.”
“Hey man, don’t be dissing Fiona. We used to go out you know.”
“I would’ve thought you had better taste,” the captain said nastily.
“I’m serious, dude. You just stop that crapola right now,” Andrew warned.
“Or what?” Marco challenged, leaning over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
Red Hot Velvet Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 32 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 1
