by Carol Durand
Chas had instructed her to pack a couple of swim suits, and as soon as the butler had delivered their bags to their rooms, which were across the hall from one another, she changed into her suit, feeling utterly naked in the tastefully one piece, and imagining that the ancestral portraits in the main hall were looking down upon her with judgement as they made their way to the Grecian pool in the back of the house.
At Chas’s request, a housemaid brought out a lovely crystal pitcher of Sangria, along with a tray of meats, cheeses and snacks for them to enjoy in the poolside cabana. The perceptive detective thought that a bit of strong drink might go a long way toward helping an uncharacteristically nervous Missy to relax.
The cool water was a refreshing relief after the canned air of traveling, and the humid heat of a summer day in New York State, and the couple laughed, splashed and swam, finally relaxing a bit. The snacks and Sangria worked their magic when Missy and Chas cooled off on loungers in the shade of the cabana, and both of them were able to feel more at peace in the ostentatious environment.
“The house is really beautiful,” she offered, trying to be positive. “And the pool was just what I needed after a day of travel.”
Chas smiled at the beautiful woman beside him, feeling a bit guilty that he had brought her into a potentially uncomfortable situation. “It is beautiful,” he agreed, nodding. “I only wish that it was more welcoming,” he remarked, thinking of Missy’s cozy Victorian and his own sprawling ranch home.
“People are what make a house a home,” she reminded him gently. “And hopefully, this is the start of you feeling like a member of your own family again.”
The detective frowned. “We’ll see about that,” he said skeptically.
Chapter 5
Missy could hear the sounds of the party outside from her spot in the anteroom, where the food was being staged by the caterer. She had been thrilled to make her special Pomegranate Pleaser cupcakes the night before, the familiar steps of creating her cakes serving as a warm reminder of home. She had spoken with the caterer, a rather stand-offish French man who was in his mid-50’s, and let him know that her cupcakes were to be presented as part of the dessert buffet. The fussy man was more than resistant until Chas came in and made him understand, in no uncertain terms, that either Missy’s cupcakes were included, or he was fired.
Her stomach churned as she realized that there was now nothing left to be done with her cupcakes and it was time to enter the ballroom to join the party. She had met Chas’s father last night after dinner, finding the dignified gentleman very sweet. He was mostly lucid, particularly at first, but slipped rather quickly into his own world, and retired to his room to rest up for the big day. She still had yet to meet Reginald or Olivia, and hoped against hope that she could help Chas to reconcile with them.
Self-consciously smoothing down the full skirt of her sleeveless, slate-blue party dress, she took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping into the ballroom and almost crashing into a man who happened to be on the other side of the door.
“You really should be more careful when you enter a room,” the pinch-faced blond man sniffed with disdain. “But since you nearly ran me down, my dear, the least you can do is get me another drink,” he waved his glass in her face. Missy was too shocked to speak, and stood with her mouth open, trying to think of a polite response. “Come, come, dear, don’t gawk,” the man pushed the glass into her hand. “Run along and fetch me a gin and tonic. Extra lime,” he ordered.
Missy looked at the heavy crystal glass in her hand, and back at the rude man who had imposed it upon her, finally finding her tongue. “I don’t work here,” she said politely, realizing that he had probably mistaken her for a member of the catering staff since she had emerged from the serving center. She handed him back the glass, which he took, looking at it as though it was contaminated.
“Really?” he said, seeming skeptical. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Oh, right. I’m Missy…uh…Melissa Gladstone,” she held out her hand.
He looked at her hand and ignored it, leaving her to drop it awkwardly to her side. “Gladstone? I don’t believe I’m familiar with the Gladstones,” he sneered, looking down his nose.
Missy stifled an unkind response and tried again. “I’m…accompanying Chas Beckett,” she explained, hoping that the mention of his name would cause the officious little man to be at least a bit more cordial. Unfortunately it seemed to have the opposite effect.
Looking as though light had finally dawned, the blond man remarked, “Ah…I see. The black sheep has brought with him a little goat, how precious.”
Missy’s blood boiled. As usual, when her ire was up, her southern accent came out even more profoundly. “How dare you?” she challenged. “I am a guest in this home and I will not tolerate you sneering down your pointy little nose at me or at Chas. I don’t know who you are, Mr. Fancy Pants, but you need to remember your manners,” she huffed, hands on hips.
“Is there a problem here?” Chas’s deep voice inquired from behind her.
Missy gave the snooty man in front of her a measured look before responding. “Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied, daring the arrogant beast to contradict her.
“Giles,” Chas inclined his head in a cool greeting.
“Beckett,” the man replied, his tone laced with seething hostility, but showing deference. Refusing to even glance at Missy, he turned away and headed toward the open bar.
“You okay?” Chas quietly asked the simmering cauldron of indignation beside him.
“That man,” she said through her teeth, “needs to learn some manners.” She stared after the insufferable guest, eyes narrowed.
“His mother has been trying for years, there’s no hope,” he quipped with a slight smile. “Is there anything that I need to take care of?”
“No, I’m sorry to distract you. You just enjoy this time with your friends and family,” she apologized, squeezing his bicep.
“Sweet sentiment, but these people are not my friends, and I haven’t had a relationship with my family for quite some time, so this gathering is as much of a challenge for me as it is for you,” he brushed her cheek affectionately with the back of his hand.
“Well, Chas Beckett…what moved Heaven and Earth to get you to darken this fine doorstep again?” a refined, feminine voice inquired, causing both Chas and Missy to turn in search of its origin.
Missy had to force herself to not allow her mouth to drop open in shock at the sight of the stunning redhead in front of her. The woman had enormous green eyes that reminded her of a predatory cat, perfectly manicured nails, and a dress that looked like it cost more than the down payment on Missy’s house. Glancing about, Missy realized that her own simple dress was entirely inappropriate for the gathering. She had selected something that clearly said “garden party,” and the rest of the women had donned garments that screamed, “cocktails with the Queen.” Wanting to run and hide, she instead focused on the woman who was gazing at Chas like an exquisite hors d’oeuvre that she’d like to nibble.
“Hello, Amanda,” Chas said quietly, jaw muscles flexing.
“Who’s your little friend, darling?” she purred, placing her fingertips on Chas’s forearm and gazing at Missy as though she were a fly in the ointment.
Tactfully extricating himself from her touch and moving to Missy’s side, he made the introductions, sounding as though he’d rather be doing anything else. “Melissa Gladstone, may I present Amanda Heatherington. Amanda, may I introduce Melissa Gladstone.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Missy smiled and extended her hand.
“Charmed,” the elegant creature drawled, briefly touching her hand and dropping it as though she wished she had a bottle of sanitizer handy. “So tell me, Melissa, how do you know our dashing Mr. Beckett?” her eyes threw daggers in rapid succession, looking back and forth between Missy and Chas.
“It’s a long story,” Chas interjected before Missy could answer. “Won’t
you excuse us?” he faked a smile, and put his hand on Missy’s lower back, guiding her away from the woman.
“Old friend?” Missy asked, when they were out of earshot.
“Something like that,” he responded vaguely. “Would you like a drink?”
“Would I ever!” came the harried response.
Chapter 6
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.
Chapter 7
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.
Chapter 8
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.
