TABLE OF CONTENTS
IRISH CRÈME KILLER
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
Irish Crème Killer
Book One in the INNcredibly Sweet Series
By
Summer Prescott
Copyright 2016 Summer Prescott Books
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.
**This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.
IRISH CRÈME KILLER
Book One in the INNcredibly Sweet Series
CHAPTER ONE
Petite blonde Melissa Gladstone-Beckett sat alone in her deserted shop, Cupcakes in Paradise, feeling worn out. She’d baked several dozen cupcakes earlier for an elementary school festival, and had been on her feet all day. Finishing the last dregs of her afternoon coffee, she wearily rose from her chair and turned the sign on the door over to “Closed.”
Her latest creation, Luck O’ the Irish cupcakes, had been a tremendous hit, and there had already been multiple orders placed for upcoming St. Patty’s Day celebrations. She’d used a dark chocolate batter and added sour cream for extra richness. Adding a touch of green food coloring and a dash of crème de menthe into the frosting, she then topped each of the festive cakes with sparkling green sugar and a marzipan shamrock.
Trudging slowly next door to the Beach House B&B, a historic beachside inn in Calgon, Florida, that she owned with her dashing and clever husband, Detective Chas Beckett, the exhausted baker looked forward to a long, hot bath and a quiet dinner for two. Crossing the marble-floored foyer to the locked door that led to the owner’s wing of the Inn, Missy punched in the code at the keypad and slipped inside to be greeted enthusiastically by her two best furry friends, Toffee, her aging golden retriever, and Bitsy, her feisty maltipoo.
“I missed you guys, too,” she grinned, bending down to scratch between two sets of fluffy ears, while the “girls” tried their best to clean her face of any residual frosting that might be present.
Missy had known that today was going to be especially busy, so she’d made arrangements with Spencer, the handsome young veteran who served as handyman, bartender, and breakfast server at the Inn as well as helping out at the cupcake shop, to give the “girls” their afternoon walk. She felt a bit guilty about not being able to take them, but had made sure their early morning romp on the beach had been a little bit longer than usual. The frolicking canines loved Spencer as much as everyone else, so they’d been as delighted to see him with leashes in hand as they would have been to see their devoted owner.
The pair trotted up the stairs at the heels of their weary human, and settled onto a large, fluffy bathmat in a corner of the enormous master bathroom when Missy started her bath. She sprinkled lavender crystals under the hot running water, and the air was soon scented with the calming essence. Sinking gratefully into the swirling waters, with the jets turned up to massage her aching muscles, she breathed a sigh of relief and leaned her head back, eyes closed.
Missy lost track of time as her aches melted away under the gentle jets, and reluctantly turned them off only when her stomach growled, reminding her that it was nearly dinnertime. She dressed in a pretty but comfortable red knit sundress that clung to her curves in all the right places. She and Chas had both been so busy lately that she wanted to look and feel pretty and give him her undivided adoration and attention tonight.
As if her thoughts had conjured him, her tall, dark, and handsome hubby appeared in the doorway of the master bedroom as Missy sat at her antique vanity, putting up her hair.
“Wow, look at you,” he said softly, bending down to kiss her neck. She laughed when the sweet brush of his kiss tickled the sensitive skin below her ear. “I can’t wait for all of Calgon to see such a beautiful woman on my arm,” Chas grinned appreciatively.
“Well, hopefully all of Calgon won’t be at the same restaurant tonight,” she teased, carefully fastening tiny glittery silver hoops in her ears.
“No worries, I made a reservation,” he replied, sitting down on the turn-of-the-century mahogany bench at the foot of the bed, watching his wife as she finished getting ready.
“You really are lovely,” he commented, his gaze warm.
“Thank you, sweetie. I worked at it tonight,” she smiled with a faint sigh.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes, just a lot on my mind,” Missy shrugged, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
“Can I help?” Chas tried to keep his voice neutral, but was concerned. His wife was a consistently positive person, and hearing her wistful tone had him a bit worried.
“We’ll talk about it at dinner,” she turned to face him after spritzing on his favorite perfume.
“Mmmm… okay,” he moved to her, offering his hand and taking a deep, appreciative whiff. “Ready?”
“Definitely,” she nodded, but he noted that her smile seemed a bit forced.
Chas Beckett had no idea what his wife needed to talk to him about, but he could tell by her expression that, whatever it was, it was affecting her profoundly. The table that he’d reserved at their favorite casually upscale seafood restaurant was in a quiet corner overlooking the water, so they’d have plenty of privacy and would be able to talk. Missy had been working so hard lately, he could see the fatigue all over her still-gorgeous face.
Their delectable entrees arrived, along with a perfectly chilled bottle of crisp and fruity pinot grigio, and the keen-eyed detective observed his darling wife pushing her crab fettuccini around on her plate rather than eating it with her usual gusto.
“Okay, beautiful, tell me what’s on your mind. I know that if you’re not wolfing down your favorite pasta, there’s clearly something wrong,” he prompted gently, capturing her hand in his.
Her eyes filled with tears, but Missy blinked them back, leading Chas to believe that whatever she had to say might be worse than he thought.
“Oh Chas… I feel so terrible…” she began, looking down at the tablecloth.
“Why? What is it?” he brushed the back of her hand with his thumb.
“I just… I’ve been feeling a little bit overwhelmed lately, with baking and running the cupcake shop and trying to help out at the Inn when I can…”
“That’s completely understandable, sweetie,” he soothed, interrupting her. “It’s okay to take a break every now and then, you know.”
“I know… and that’s kind of what I want to talk with you about,” Missy raised her kitten-grey eyes to meet his.
“Whatever you need…”
She took a deep breath. “I hate to say this, after we’ve worked so hard… but…”
“But what?” he prodded gently.
“I think I might want to close Cupcakes in Paradise,” sh
e admitted, her eyes growing moist again.
“That’s okay,” he assured her, holding both her hands in his. “Whatever you need, sweetie. What’s going on? Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Chas reached into the pocket of his sport coat and produced a linen handkerchief. Missy took it and blotted quickly at her eyes.
“It’s just… we hardly have any time to spend together, and when I’ve been at the shop all day, I just get so tired. I could still bake for parties and occasions, but doing that and running the shop has just gotten to be too much. Is that awful of me to say?” she asked, her eyes large.
Her husband smiled fondly at her. “Not at all. I would love to have you around more, and I’ve noticed that you do seem tired. If you want to close the shop, close it. We can either sell it, or turn it into a guest cottage, since it backs up to the beach too,” he shrugged.
“Oh, Chas, really? You’re not disappointed in me for giving up?” Missy asked.
“Sweetie, you’re not giving up, you’re being smart and trying to do what’s best for you… and for us. How could I be even the least bit upset about that?” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.
“Thank you,” she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.
The detective chuckled, more than pleased at his wife’s relief.
“Think you can manage a few more bites now?” he asked, glancing down at her nearly full plate.
“Yes, I’m suddenly starving,” Missy grinned, picked up her fork and attacked the pasta with her usual enthusiasm.
CHAPTER TWO
Fortunately, there had been no homicides in Calgon for a while, so Chas’s morning had been consumed with catching up on paperwork and looking through evidence on several lesser crimes. When his stomach growled, reminding him that it was lunch time, he decided to visit Betsy’s, a nearby diner, rather than traveling all the way home for his midday meal. He was happy to see that Phillip “Kel” Kellerman, a local, world-renowned artist, who just happened to be the fiancé of Missy’s best friend Echo, bellied up to the counter, attacking a mountainous club sandwich with great gusto.
“Hey, Kel,” the detective greeted his friend. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.”
“Chas,” the artist replied, still chewing, but offering his hand. “I’ve been in New York. I had a showing there for a week—just got back yesterday.”
“Good to see you,” Chas nodded. “Mind if I join?”
“Not at all, I saved you a seat,” Kel gestured to the empty chair next to him.
Betsy Boggus, the iron-haired, raspy-voiced owner of the place, came over, order pad in hand and pen poised.
“It’s not every day that we get someone as handsome as you gracing our fair establishment,” she chuckled. “What can I get you, Detective?”
“Whatever that colossal thing is that Kel has, with a cup of soup and a very large coffee,” Chas grinned at the older woman.
Betsy had the best diner food in town, and ran her place like a benevolent dictator. She had her favorite customers—Kel and Chas were both on that list—and she treated them like kings. It was more than a bit coincidental that her favorites tended to be both talkative and good tippers. The artist and the detective had both benefitted at various times from the wealth of information that seemed to pass through the diner’s doors, and Betsy could be counted on to keep an eye on her patrons, gleaning more from casual conversation and observation than some of the rookies on the force did with direct questioning.
“Anything interesting going on that I should know about?” was her nonchalant question to the men as she placed Chas’s gargantuan sandwich platter down in front of him.
“Thankfully, no. Things are quiet for a change,” the detective eyed his meal. “It’s going to take me a couple of hours to work my way through that much food, Betsy,” he grinned.
“Good thing you don’t shy away from a challenge, Detective,” she tossed back over her shoulder, heading to the kitchen. “Let me know if you need a to-go box.”
“Must be nice to have a little down time,” Kel observed, munching away at his lunch.
“Knock on wood,” Chas nodded his enthusiastic agreement. “But I really want to take Missy away for a bit—maybe go see my family in upstate New York.”
Kel put down his sandwich. “My grandfather used to own a resort in the Catskills. He sold it about forty years ago, with a provision that family members and guests could stay at no cost, in perpetuity. If you’re really looking to get away, I can make arrangements for a couple of cabins and Echo and I could join you. Spencer too, if he wanted to tag along,” the artist offered.
“That’s a great idea,” the detective agreed. “My dad had quite the antique and classic car collection that’s housed on the family estate. The house and grounds have been opened to the public as a museum, but the cars were willed to me, so you, Spencer and I can take them out for a spin while the girls go to the spa or something,” he suggested.
“I think we need to make this happen,” Kel replied. “They’ve had a really warm spring up there, so it should be beautiful up in the mountains. You talk to Missy and Spencer, I’ll talk to Echo, and let’s do this.”
“To vacation,” Chas said, raising his chipped coffee mug in a toast.
“To vacation,” Kel repeated, clinking the mugs together.
CHAPTER THREE
Missy chattered excitedly with her best friend, former Californian and lifelong vegan, Echo Willis, in the back of the limousine that Chas had rented to take everyone to the airport in Miami, where they’d board a plane for New York. Since Kel had secured three luxury cabins for the group, Chas insisted on paying transportation expenses for everyone.
Though he was a detective, and a darn good one at that, Chas Beckett had inherited a fortune from his late father. He’d grown up in a wealthy family, but had always wanted to do something with his life that made a difference, so, after a very expensive Ivy League-education, he’d shocked the entire family by becoming a police officer, eventually working his way up to the rank of detective.
Chas was the only one of his siblings who had rejected a life of leisure, preferring to make his own way in the world, despite his healthy golden safety net. The only outward sign of his privileged origins was the way that he dressed. His fine fabric suits and shirts were exquisitely tailored and came from the finest design houses. His shoes, ties, watches, and accessories were top shelf, and he often changed into more casual attire before heading to a crime scene, keeping extra clothing in his office and the trunk of his car just in case.
What the rest of the group didn’t know was that Chas had made first-class reservations for the entire trip. There were luxury seats reserved on the airplane, and a limousine would be waiting to pick them up on the other end and take them to the resort in the Catskills. It wasn’t about being pretentious—because that was definitely not his style—it was about providing the most relaxing and enjoyable vacation experience possible.
The detective loved nothing more than seeing the smile on his lovely wife’s face as she left the cares and concerns of daily life behind, and he exchanged a knowing glance with Spencer and Kel, when she and Echo, heads together, chattering like magpies in their spacious leather first-class seats, burst into laughter, Bloody Marys in hand.
**
The uniformed chauffeur spoke into the intercom in front of the tall iron gates that surrounded the exclusive Catskills resort, the Pinnacle, announcing the arrival of their party. The lock on the heavy gates disengaged with a metallic thunk and the doors rolled open. Further down the red brick roadway stood a guard shack, where two heavily armed guards stood watch, making certain that no unauthorized persons got behind the tall, razor-topped walls of the resort. There were more armed guards stationed at strategic points along the wall and around the grounds, because the safety and security of the celebrities, politicians, and other high-profile guests who vacationed there was paramount. There were multiple secur
ity centers on-site, where elite professionals watched security camera footage around the clock. It was said that kings, queens, and presidents had visited the esteemed resort, and the outside world never knew it.
Missy’s eyes were wide as she took in the view outside of the luxuriously appointed limo. She was a bit intimidated by the level of security, and actually gasped out loud when she saw the main lodge of the Pinnacle, which closely resembled a medieval castle.
“Oh my goodness, is that where we’re going to be staying?” she wondered, gripping Echo’s arm.
Kel chuckled. “No, darling girl, that’s where people who don’t know the owners slum it. We have guest cottages with views of the lake that will take your breath away.”
Spencer smiled and shook his head, and Missy blinked a couple of times, then returned to taking in the view. Missy’s vision of “cottages” bore no resemblance to the reality of the massive luxury homes that backed up to a pristine, crystal-clear lake with private boat docks. Each 5000+ square feet “cottage” came with a housekeeper, a chef, and an enclosed golf cart for getting around the property. Guests could elect to have their staff stay on-site, or stand by to be summoned when needed. Since Missy and the gang were looking for an intimate, relaxing vacation, they would use minimal staff.
Spencer insisted that he be allowed to stay in the still-opulent staff quarters in the basement of Missy and Chas’s cottage. Kel strongly felt that the Marine should have all of the benefits and luxuries as the rest of them, but finally accepted the young man’s desire for much humbler surroundings, where he could be easily contacted by his employers… just in case.
Herb Finkelstein, grandson of the man who had bought the Pinnacle from Kel’s grandfather, had greeted them personally at the main lodge upon their arrival, and had assured them that all of the vast resources of the resort were at their disposal—if there was anything at all that they wanted or needed, all they had to do was ask.
Irish Creme Killer: Book 1 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series Page 1
