White Chocolate Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 31 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries)

by Summer Prescott

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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 1

  Cupcakes in Paradise owner, petite, blonde, Melissa Gladstone Beckett, hummed cheerfully as she frosted the last batch of her latest creations. There were no guests currently staying at the Beach House Bed and Breakfast Inn that she owned with her handsome and clever hubby, Detective Chas Beckett, so she had a little bit of extra time to create a new recipe for her cupcake shop next door. Maggie, the cheery, iron-haired, Innkeeper that they’d “inherited” when they bought the Inn, ran the day to day operations, freeing her boss up to make cupcakes to her heart’s content.

  She’d stirred creamy, luscious, white chocolate into white cake batter, so the cupcakes were extra moist and dense. Carefully filling the cakes with fresh raspberry cream cheese, she then topped them with fluffy, white chocolate frosting and drizzled the glamorous beauties with a fresh raspberry puree. Missy placed a sprinkle of mini white chocolate chips on top of each one, and gazed at the results with satisfaction.

  There was just enough time to put on a pot of coffee before her best friend, Echo arrived for their morning ritual of coffee, cupcakes and lighthearted community gossip. Phillip “Kel” Kellerman was a local, but world-renowned, artist who was waiting patiently for Echo, the flame-haired former Californian, to agree to marry him, and he usually supplied most of the “gossip,” having been born and raised in their sleepy beach town of Calgon, Florida. Kel knew practically everything about everyone in Calgon, and kept Missy and Echo, the newcomers, entertained with his tales of relationships, scandals and business deals. The artist would be among the missing this morning, however, due to an early appointment.

  Echo was vegan, so Missy usually made a vegan equivalent of whatever her newest cupcake creation happened to be, but white chocolate had been too much of a challenge, so she’d prepared a vegan vanilla bean version that she was anxious for her friend to try and evaluate. Setting two steaming mugs of coffee on their favorite bistro table in her cozy shop, along with a plate of cupcakes, Missy looked up when Echo entered.

  “Hey girlfriend,” she called out, her southern accent evident. You could take the girl out of Louisiana, but you couldn’t take the Louisiana out of the girl. “You look stressed, what’s up?”

  Echo plopped down into a chair and wrapped her hands around her coffee with a sigh.

  “I woke up this morning to the sound of my neighbors arguing again,” she frowned.

  “Let me guess, Loud Steve had an issue,” Missy rolled her eyes.

  “Always,” Echo nodded. “He’s so obnoxious. I know he thinks he’s looking out for me or something, or maybe he’s jealous that a new guy moved in next door, but I hate the way that he looks for every opportunity to be rude to poor Tim.”

  Calgon’s new mortician, Tim Eckels, a reclusive soul who never seemed to be able to find his cat, Jingles, had moved into the house next door to Echo, which had been vacant for quite some time. The neighbor on the other side of her, whom she’d nicknamed Loud Steve, because of his tendency to play the radio in his mini pickup loudly enough for the neighbors to hear from the moment he entered the neighborhood, had been picking on the quiet, unassuming man from the moment that he’d moved in.

  “Well, hopefully they’ll resolve their differences eventually,” Missy said sympathetically. “In the meantime, tell me what you think of these cupcakes. The ones in the silver foil are the vegan ones.”

  Echo took a cupcake and started peeling back the foil.

  “I mean, I fully realize that Tim is a really odd duck, but that doesn’t give Steve the right to pick on him,” she continued, taking a sizeable bite of cupcake.

  “Maybe you could have them over for a barbeque or something,” her friend suggested.

  Echo held her hand up in front of her mouth as she guffawed, so that she didn’t spray cupcake crumbs across the table.

  “I don’t really want to spend that much time in the company of Tim or Steve, so, I’m thinking that’s not going to happen,” she washed the bite down with a swig of coffee. “These are amazing by the way,” she raised her cupcake in tribute before taking another bite.

  “Thanks. Well, you know, someone should take charge of ironing things out between the two of them,” Missy commented, ever the peace-maker.

  “Yup, and it’s not going to be me. They’re both adults. If they have issues with each other, they can take it upon themselves to work them out.”

  “And drive you crazy in the meantime,” she raised an eyebrow.

  “At this point, it’s not a long trip,” Echo grinned wryly.

  “When is your store opening?” her friend wisely changed the subject.

  “I’ll be hosting a grand opening next Friday, and I’m hoping that you’ll hook me up with several dozen cupcakes for the occasion.”

  “Of course, that goes without saying,” Missy beamed. “I’m so excited for you.”

  “Me too,” Echo nodded. “Spencer and I have been working overtime to get enough candles made to stock the shelves. It’s a tiny store, but it takes a lot of candles to fill it up.”

  Spencer Bengal was the handsome Marine veteran that Missy and Chas had hired to be the handyman, server and bartender at the Inn. He also filled in when Missy needed help at the cupcakes shop, and now was spending his evenings helping Echo make candles for her new store. She’d started out just featuring cupcake-scented, elaborately sculpted candles at Cupcakes in Paradise, but they’d gone over so well with both locals and tourists, that she’d started selling them online, and eventually made enough money to buy a quaint little shop downtown.

  “Have you noticed that Spencer seems happier these days?” Missy asked.

  “Yeah, I don’t know what’s behind it, but I’m glad. He’s a pretty amazing guy.”

  “Yes, he is. Speaking of amazing guys, have you told Kel that you’ll marry him yet?” she teased.

  “No, but I’m considering it. He’s being very patient with me,” Echo smiled faintly.

  “Well, hurry up and make up your mind,” Missy grinned. “I can’t wait to have our first wedding
at the Inn.”

  Chapter 2

  New owner of Memorial Mortuary, Calgon’s most prestigious funeral home, Timothy Eckels, was startled when he looked up from his embalming supplies catalog and saw a young woman with black hair, black eyeliner and lipstick, and enough piercings to make it impossible to get through airport security, staring at him and tapping her foot impatiently.

  He blinked at her a few times before asking if he could help her with something.

  “My sister died. I don’t know how all this stuff works, but the police are at her house making sure she’s dead or something, so I need to make arrangements for whatever weirdness you guys do to take care of death.”

  While her matter-of-fact statement was surprising in its simplicity, Tim felt a small spark of respect for her pragmatism in the unfortunate situation. He cleared his throat and pushed his horn-rimmed, coke-bottle glasses up his nose with his forefinger.

  “Well, good then. Uh, after the police finish their…business, they’ll call me for a pick-up of the…deceased, and then…” he began to explain the process, but was interrupted by the bored young woman.

  “Yeah, yeah, the body, I get it. So what do I need to do?” she stared at him.

  “There’s the matter of deciding what happens to the remains…there’s burial or cremation, or…”

  “Okay, fine. We’ll do the torch method, it’s cheaper, right?”

  Tim regarded the dark creature with fascination, and the corner of his mouth twitched as though he were trying to suppress a smile.

  “Why, yes…it is. Then there’s the matter of a container…”

  “Can’t I just bring like my own jar or something?”

  “Uh, no. There are specific requirements…”

  “So, I have to buy a magical jar, sure. Look, isn’t there a package or something, where we can just get this taken care of? Just give me the budget version,” she examined her chipped black nail polish.

  Tim stared at her for a moment, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

  “There’s the matter of the ceremony,” he began.

  The young woman let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m so not equipped to deal with this,” she shook her head, running a hand through her tousled raven hair. “Look, can I just come back with my brother after you pick her up?”

  Tim nodded, oddly happy that he’d be seeing her again. “Of course.”

  “You got a card or something?”

  “Yes,” he replied, in somewhat of a daze.

  “Well, can I have one?” she prompted.

  “Yes,” he repeated, then shook himself and reached for a business card.

  “Timothy,” she read the card, gazing up at him as though seeing him for the first time. “I’m Fiona.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said gravely. “I’m sorry for your loss, Fiona.”

  “Yeah, me too,” she sighed, turning abruptly and leaving the office.

  Tim watched her go and looked at his desk phone, waiting for the call from the coroner. His eyes lit up just a bit when the “Incoming” button started flashing.

  The Memorial Mortuary hearse was pre-loaded with a supply of body bags and other essentials needed for the pick-up of a corpse. Typically, in a case where the police were involved, the coroner would do his examination and drop off the body with Tim afterwards, but today, the deaths had been stacked up, which gave the mortician a bit of a lift, and meant that he’d have to go fetch the remains of Paulette McCamish.

  He plugged the address into the GPS in the hearse and headed out to one of the few poorer sections of Calgon, wondering how the family might be planning to pay for funeral services. He pulled up in front of a house with a dry, brown yard, which was unusual in this part of Florida, and opened the chain-link gate that led to a non-descript beige ranch home with torn screens and sagging window sills, that was decorated with a half dead fern swinging limply from a hook by the door.

  The coroner, Stanley Nichimura, was packing up his bags inside, when a red-eyed, distraught-looking man in his mid-thirties let Tim in.

  “Mr. Eckels,” the coroner nodded to the mortician.

  “Hi,” Tim replied, glancing around the interior of the shabby, but clean home. The only spot of color in the dreary space was a bright potted plant in the corner with pretty purple flowers. “Are you all set?” he asked, eager to take the body back to his workroom and begin his preparations.

  “Yep, we’re done here. Simple heart attack, nothing that requires further attention,” Nichimura snapped his case shut, and indicated that Tim should follow him to the kitchen, where the deceased lay sprawled on the floor.

  “Age?” the mortician asked, surprised to see that the woman was so young.

  “Thirty-seven, as of a few days ago,” the coroner replied.

  “Kind of young for a heart attack,” Tim observed, fixated on the woman’s face. “What’s that at the corner of her mouth?” he asked, bending down.

  Nichimura frowned and ground his teeth together briefly before kneeling down next to the mortician.

  “Look, I’ve been over every detail, and this woman shows nothing but the signs of an ordinary heart attack,” he hissed, quietly enough so that only Tim could hear him. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop looking for intrigue where none exists. You got lucky the last two times, finding something that made the cases look like murder, but this is straightforward and you need to just process the body and leave my findings alone.”

  Tim blinked at the coroner. “But the last two cases were murders.”

  “That’s irrelevant. You got lucky. This one is textbook, got it?”

  “Are you done? I have work to do,” the mortician replied, without expression.

  Nichimura gave him one more warning look, rose to his feet and left without another word.

  Chapter 3

  “Where is she?” Loud Steve demanded, barging into the funeral home.

  Tim stared at him, confused. The only “she” that the two of them seemed to have in common, was Echo, and he hadn’t seen her for a couple of days.

  “I have no idea,” he blinked rapidly at his agitated neighbor.

  Steve stepped closer, overwhelming the mortician with the pungency of his unwashed state, nostrils flaring.

  “You little freak,” he snarled, moving way too far into Tim’s personal space. “You mean to tell me that you took my ex-wife’s body from her house and now you don’t even know where it is? What kind of a sick game are you playing?”

  Tim tilted his head to the side, staring at Steve as though he were from an alien planet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stated flatly, thinking that he’d need to spray down the office with air freshener when his neighbor left.

  “Don’t play dumb with me, freak-show,” he growled. “You picked up my ex-wife, Paulette McCamish, yesterday at her house, and I want to see her.”

  Light dawned in the mortician’s eyes as he finally grasped what the smelly madman in front of him was talking about.

  “Ah, I see,” he nodded. “No, I’m sorry, you can’t see the deceased before she’s been properly prepared. The family has requested an open casket ceremony, so you’ll be able to see her at the funeral.”

  “Now you listen here…” he loomed large in front of Tim.

  Both men turned suddenly when the front door slammed open, announcing the arrival of Fiona.

  “What do you think you’re doing here?” her eyes narrowed to slits when she saw Steve.

  “Don’t mess with me, Fi, you know I loved that girl,” he warned.

  “You sure had a funny way of showing it,” she bit out, her voice dripping with contempt. Clearly done addressing her former brother-in-law, she turned to Tim and handed him a plastic shopping bag.

  “Here’s her favorite dress. It’s not what I would’ve picked, but she liked it,” she shrugged. “I didn’t know if you’d need shoes or not, so I put some in the bottom of the bag, just in case.”

  The mortician nodded, accepting
the bag. “What would you like me to do with the personal effects that came in with the deceased?”

  “Personal effects?” Fiona looked at him, confused.

  “Her jewelry, hair clip, that sort of thing.”

  “Oh. Well, if she was wearing stuff when she died, she must have liked it, so just use whatever jewelry and hair stuff she was using when you fix her all up.”

  “What jewelry?” Loud Steve asked, looking from the mortician to his former sister-in-law and back again.

  Both of them ignored him entirely.

  “You need anything else?” Fiona asked Tim.

  “No, thank you. This should do it,” he held up the bag.

  “Did my brother make all of the arrangements like he was supposed to?” she asked.

  “Well, there is the matter of…” Tim began, but was abruptly cut off by Fiona, who cut a deliberate glance at Steve.

  “That’s fine, I’ll have him call you,” she said firmly.

  “Okay,” he nodded as she turned and headed for the front door.

  Steve followed her outside, peppering her with questions.

  “Fi, wait! Where is the funeral? When should I be there…?” he trailed along behind her, not giving up until she was in her car and pulling out of the parking lot.

  Tim peered out the front window of the funeral home, watching the ex-husband of Paulette McCamish standing in the parking lot, staring as his ex-sister-in-law pulled away, going faster than usual in her haste to get away from him. When, at last, his neighbor turned away, shoulders slumped, the mortician looked into the bag containing Paulette’s clothing. He tended to agree with Fiona’s assessment – the dress wasn’t one that he would’ve selected for the deceased, but that wasn’t his call to make. He ran the light synthetic fabric through his fingers thoughtfully before heading down to his comfort zone, the preparation room.

  He’d made an inventory of all items that had come in with the body – a pair of blue lucite earrings, with matching necklace and bangle, a rhinestone nose stud, a clear plastic hair clip that did little to tame her unruly tangle of bright red hair, and a rather large diamond ring, that she wore on the “ring finger” of her right hand. He knew that it was an actual diamond, rather than an imitation, because he had a jeweler’s loupe and had checked. Some families wanted the body to be displayed with jewelry for the funeral, then have it collected prior to cremation, others sent their loved ones to the grave fully bedecked.