by Carol Durand
“Ben knows that he has no worries,” Cheryl smiled fondly, thinking of the love of her life. “But still, if you can get me an autograph, I’ll work for you forever,” she promised.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Missy headed for the kitchen with a smile.
Chapter 4
Friday morning, Missy seriously considered sending a staff member to deliver the cupcakes for Ivana, but for “security reasons” the diva had specified in the original contract that the owner was responsible for delivering the cupcakes personally. Never one to shrink from responsibility or cower in the face of adversity, she loaded up the cupcakes, determined to show grace and kindness even while dealing with a decidedly difficult movie star.
Recognizing her, the gate guard waved her through, and she couldn’t help but feel as though he was laughing at her for her behavior yesterday. She held her head high and marched to Ivana’s trailer with a steadfast resolve that weakened considerably with every step closer to the dragon lady’s domain. Missy’s relief was almost palpable when Lola answered her knock this time.
“Miss Gladstone, how lovely to see you,” she said, accepting the cupcakes. “What flavors do we have today?” she asked.
“Hi Lola, it’s great to see you too,” Missy said, meaning it and glad that she didn’t have to deal with the alternative. “I made an Orange Dream, a Cheesecake-Filled Carrot, and a Double Fudge Peppermint,” she said proudly. “I hope Miss Cherie enjoys them.”
“Oh, I’m sure she will,” Lola responded, glancing over her shoulder into the trailer. “Yesterday’s selections were quite a hit. She even said that she thought that you’re the best cupcake artist that she’s ever encountered,” the assistant confided in a low voice.
“Well, it does my heart good to hear that,” Missy smiled. “See you tomorrow,” she waved, heading back to the parking lot. Hearing a commotion on her way back, she stepped over a yellow rope that was stretched between two pylons, wondering what was happening. Stepping out from behind a bush, she was nearly overrun by a man wielding a bloody axe, and an angry mob of zombies chasing him.
“Cut!” she heard an angry scream, and turned to see a man with a handlebar mustache, who was about her height, striding toward her, furious. “This is a closed set, missy!” the man yelled, leaving her wondering how he knew her name. “Who are you, and why are you intent upon ruining my movie?” he demanded, shoving his face awkwardly close to hers, steeping her instantly in gin fumes.
“She’s with me,” a deep male voice challenged as Ian appeared out of nowhere, slinging an arm casually about her shoulders.
The little man, who was apparently the director, then turned the volume down a bit on his wrath. “Well, precious,” he said, sneering sweetly at Ian. “If you’re going to have a pet, make sure it behaves,” he spat cattily, looking at Missy like something on the bottom of his shoe.
Ian chuckled, raising the director’s ire once again. “Sure thing, boss,” he waved him off. He turned to Missy with a contagious grin. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, looks like I’m just trouble with a capital T around here,” she shook her head, her face warming.
“Meh, don’t worry about Buckman. He’s a little…high-strung sometimes.”
“Buckman?” she asked, causing Ian to look at her curiously.
“Paul Buckman, the director,” he explained. “Don’t you ever go to the movies?” he asked, surprised.
“Not typically, no. I work six days a week, and when I’m off, I pretty much read books, cook and play with my dogs,” she admitted, wondering what this man must think of her provincial ways.
“That’s fantastic,” he grinned. “I miss being able to have those kinds of times. I’m on location so often that I’ve practically forgotten what home even looks like,” he mused, his gaze darkening for a split second before returning to his normally pleasant expression. “Maybe if I get a break in the action here sometime, I could take your pups for a walk?” he suggested, hopefully.
“I’m sure they’d like that,” Missy nodded, feeling sorry for the mega-star who never got a break.
“I’m due on set in a few, but you’re welcome to hang out and watch for a little bit. I can show you where to stand so that no one yells at you,” he teased.
“That would be fun,” she agreed, following him to another roped off area, entirely oblivious to the piercing glare that she was being given by Ivana Cherie, who had spotted them on the way to her makeup session.
**
Missy stayed to watch the production for a couple of hours, delighted when Ian asked her to accompany him to the lunch tent, and she got to meet cast and crew members who all wholeheartedly praised her cupcakes. He invited her to come and watch anytime that she’d like, providing her with a VIP guest pass so that she could come and go as she pleased, without ever being questioned by security. Cheryl was over the moon when she told her about it, and Missy had to laugh at her enthusiasm. She took Ian up on his kind offer, and stayed to watch the filming for at least a couple of hours every day, wildly entertained by the stories and antics of the cast and crew, and embraced into their weird and wonderful world like one of their very own.
Paul Buckman did not deign to dignify her presence with an acknowledgment of her existence, but occasionally shot dirty looks in her direction. There was an awkward moment before lunch one day, as Missy and Ian headed to the lunch tent. Ivana Cherie moved right into their path, blocking the way, and insisted that Ian accompany her to her trailer to “work on lines.” It was obvious in the way that her eyes roved his body, while she pressed suggestively against him, that there would be something much steamier than rehearsal going on in her trailer. Giving Missy a helpless look that said, “What can I do?” he trailed behind Ivana like a happy puppy dog, leaving Missy to chat with the crew while polishing off her catered lunch.
Chapter 5
Missy had just finished boxing up Ivana’s daily assortment, when Chas came in the back door of the shop, entering the gleaming commercial kitchen, his face grim.
“Hey handsome,” Missy greeted the detective, her smile fading when she noticed the expression on his face. “What is it, Chas? What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.
“I’ll be going with you when you deliver cupcakes this morning,” he informed her quietly. Her mind raced. She had told him about getting to know Ian and the other cast and crew members, and she was now hoping against hope that someone hadn’t misinterpreted her relationship with the movie star and made a fuss. Chas certainly was not the jealous type, but she could understand how even the most confident of men could be intimidated by Ian’s good looks and stardom.
“Well, that would be wonderful,” she agreed brightly, hoping to put his mind at ease.
“No, unfortunately, it won’t,” the detective sighed. “There was a death on the set this morning. Apparently, prior to one of the murder scenes, someone replaced the “killer’s” replica pistol with an actual pistol, and the result was pretty gruesome. The actor playing the role of the killer had to be sedated.”
“Oh my goodness, Chas, that’s positively awful,” Missy’s hands went to her throat in horror. She come to know many of the cast members, and any one of their deaths would be a tragedy. “Who was killed?” she asked, not wanting to hear the answer.
Chas moved over the where she stood, and placed his hands supportively on her shoulders. “It was Ian, sweetie. I’m so sorry,” he said, knowing that they had become friends.
A sob escaped her throat as Chas pulled her into his arms and swayed back and forth, comforting her. “He was such a nice person,” she sniffled, reaching into her purse for a tissue and blotting her face. The text tone on her phone pinged, and she looked down to see a message from Lola, Ivana Cherie’s assistant, pop up.
“Ms. Cherie is distraught this morning. Please make absolutely sure that you’re on time with her delivery. A million thanks. Lola.”
Looks like we’d better get going, she said, blowing her nose. Chas no
dded, then waited for her to freshen up a bit before walking her to his unmarked car. Cupcakes on her lap, she rode beside him in silence, thinking about the loss of her new friend. When they pulled up to the site, there were seemingly dozens of police cars, with uniforms swarming the little section of the bayou where the movie had set up camp. Missy’s VIP badge meant nothing today, she would not have been able to get past the police at the gate if she’d not been accompanied by Chas.
Making their way quickly to Ivana’s trailer, so as to not augment the actress’s distress by delivering her cupcakes late, Missy noticed clumps of the cast and crew milling about in varying states of shock. She whispered words of encouragement to some who hugged her on the way to Ivana’s trailer.
Missy knocked softly on Ivana’s door, and it flew inward suddenly.
“You perfectly wretched woman,” Ivana hissed, mascara smeared down her cheeks, her professionally tinted locks tossed up into a messy bun. “You knew that I was having a horrible day and you couldn’t even to be bothered to be on time,” she accused, eyes flashing.
Missy glanced at her watch, knowing that she was supposed to show up with cupcakes at precisely 9 a.m. The digital numbers flashed up at her: 0900.37 – Ivana was nearly hysterical because she was 37 seconds late.
“My apologies, Ms. Cherie,” Missy said stiffly, determined to be respectful because she knew that Ivana and Ian had been…involved. “I’m sorry for your loss.” She handed the box of cupcakes to the actress, and turned to leave.
“You’re sorry for my loss? Right. I’ll just bet you are. Don’t think that I didn’t see the way that you were sniffing around Ian. You probably switched the guns yourself because you knew you couldn’t have him,” she accused, seeming as though she were under the influence of something.
Missy’s blood boiled. “Ian was my friend. How dare you try to…” she began, teeth clenched, her whole body trembling with fury.
Putting a steadying hand on her arm, Chas, who had been, until this point, looking around the immediate vicinity as though he’d dropped something, appeared, interrupting the impending tongue-lashing. “Ms. Cherie,” he said, cutting Missy’s tirade short. “I’m Detective Chas Beckett with the LaChance Police Department. I’m sorry to disturb you during your time of grief, but I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind. I promise I’ll make it brief,” he said earnestly, his calm voice working some sort of magic upon the unreasonable woman.
“Of course, Detective,” Ivana purred, eyeing Chas like he was a piece of meat in the butcher shop window. “Come right in,” she opened her door wide, revealing that she was wearing only a thin silk robe.
“Oh, I don’t want you to go to any trouble. If you don’t mind, I’d actually like to stay out here, in case any of my men need me,” he said smoothly, indicating a group of uniforms with a tilt of his head.
“Of course, I understand,” she smiled sweetly, padding out onto the tiny porch and sitting gingerly on the steps, gazing up at Chas with big blue eyes. Seeing that Missy was hovering nearby, she frowned. “You’re still here? Why? Why is that happening?” she demanded, her voice rising.
Without a word, Missy merely shook her head, turned on her heel and headed for Chas’s car. Once there, she leaned her head back against the seat, feeling limp. It wasn’t bad enough that a friend of hers had been killed in a terrible accident, but now she’d had to put up with being berated by a spoiled princess who accused her of murder, for being 37 seconds late with a cupcake delivery. Her head pounded, and the rising temperature of the bayou compounded her discomfort. She slipped into a fitful sleep, waking up glistening with sweat when Chas opened his door.
Chapter 6
“You okay?” Chas asked, brushing back damp curls from Missy’s forehead.
She nodded, still drowsy. “I just wish that I had some water,” she sighed, a hand over her eyes to block out the sun streaming in the windshield.
“Your wish is my command,” Chas said, reaching into the back seat. He jiggled the lid off of a small cooler and pulled out a bottle of ice cold water, which reminded Missy of Ian and brought tears to her eyes. To distract herself from thoughts of her dead friend, she asked about Ivana.
“So how did things go with the Ice Queen?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Not so bad. She seems to think that you had something to do with Ian’s murder, but I can’t quite figure out why. She’s having a rough time right now,” he said quietly.
Missy snorted. “A rough time? Yeah, I can see how it would be hell to have your custom-made cupcakes arrive 37 seconds late,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I think there’s more to Ivana’s story than anyone realizes,” Chas returned, his voice a mild rebuke.
Missy looked at him in wonder. “You do realize that she’s an internationally famous actress, right?”
“Meaning?” he raised an eyebrow.
“Meaning that it’s her job to convince people all over the world that she’s someone or something other than the uber-spoiled diva that she is. She pretends for a living, Chas, and she’s really good at it. Don’t you think there’s the slightest possibility that she’s playing you? And if she is, there may be a darn good reason for it!”
A muscle in the detective’s jaw flexed repeatedly as he chose his next words very carefully. “Yes, she’s an actress, playing make-believe is her job, and she’s good at it. My job is to find facts, not indulge in fiction, and I’m good at what I do too,” he reminded her. “Just because people are famous, doesn’t mean they’re happy. Ian Carson was her lover, Missy. I’m sure that she had nothing to do with his death,” Chas looked at her, adamant. “She does, however, think that you had something to do with it,” he sighed.
“What? Why on earth would she think that?” Missy demanded.
“Ivana was distraught when she heard the news, and ran to Ian’s dressing room to cry. When she got there she found one of your cupcakes, half-eaten, next to his water bottle. She thinks that you went there to give him a cupcake and seduce him, but when he didn’t respond, you ran to the prop room and switched out the gun,” Chas explained.
“That’s preposterous,” Missy exclaimed, shaking her head at the nerve of that unpleasant woman, trying to frame her.
Chas paused for a moment, not wanting to ask the next question, but needing to. “Did you take him a cupcake?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Missy’s mouth fell open. Never in the entire time that they’d been seeing one another, had Chas ever mistrusted her. One of the reasons that the two of them got along so well was that they were completely honest and open and kept no secrets from each other. “Chas, I would never…of course not, I…no!” she insisted, eyes welling with tears. “I can’t believe you’d even ask me that. You’re the only man I’m interested in. I’d never do that to you,” she protested, angry that he believed the lies that Ivana quite obviously had told him.
“I wasn’t insinuating anything, Missy,” he replied tiredly. “I just wanted to know if you had brought your friend a cupcake, that’s all.”
Missy sat up straight in her seat as Chas drove toward town. “Wait, Chas! I just thought of something…” she said, excitedly. “What flavor was the cupcake?” she asked, knowing that, as thorough as Chas was in his investigations, it was a question he’d have thought to ask.
“German Chocolate Cherry, why?”
“I knew it! I didn’t make German Chocolate Cherry for the crew yesterday, but I did make one for Ivana. If there was a half-eaten cupcake in Ian’s room, the only person who could’ve put it there would be Ivana,” she explained triumphantly.
“What motivation would she have for putting a half-eaten cupcake in his bedroom?” the detective asked, skeptical.
“Oh, gee…uh, I don’t know. How about maybe because she hates me, or she’s just trying to frame me for her lover’s murder because I’m showing the world that it’s possible for men and women to be friends without the relationship turning into anyt
hing more,” Missy spat like an angry kitten, her grey eyes flashing.
“You do realize that the fact that you were his friend, and that you would have had easy access to a cupcake that was identical to the one that you gave Ivana, makes her story sound at least a little bit plausible, right?” he asked, glancing at her as he drove.
“Chas Beckett!” she exclaimed, furious. “You don’t seriously think that I tried to seduce Ian Carson with a cupcake, do you???”
“Of course not,” he grimaced. “All I’m saying is that apparently Ivana has been spreading that rumor all over the place, and it will have to be addressed before I can move forward with the investigation.”
Chapter 7
After having literally accused Missy of murder, Ivana Cherie still insisted that she deliver three cupcakes a day, even though filming had been suspended until the script could be modified to accommodate the untimely demise of one of the main characters. When Lola, Ivana’s assistant, had informed Missy that the diva still demanded her cupcakes, she flatly refused until the assistant, with great humiliation and remorse told her that Ivana wouldn’t hesitate to sue for breach of contract if she didn’t get her cupcakes.
“I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t,” Missy shook her head, venting to Cheryl in the kitchen of Missy’s Muffins and More.
“I wonder if all Hollywood types are this terrible,” the young manager said, crushed with disillusionment.
“Ian wasn’t,” Missy replied sadly. Cheryl patted her boss on the back as she left the kitchen.
Missy packed up the three unique cupcakes that she was contractually bound to deliver, unwilling to compromise on quality, despite the nasty disposition of her customer. She and Cheryl had made three lovely creations this morning, a Magnificent Mango, a Rainbow Delight, and a Lemon Meringue. Putting them in their coordinating boxes, she wondered how long she’d have to serve this nightmare of a human being. Sighing and accepting her fate, she headed for the set. Police activity had died down to the point where people were beginning to resume practicing lines, building sets and double-checking props, so Missy was able to enter and exit as she pleased with her VIP badge.
