Frostycake Murder

by Summer Prescott

  “I’m so tired of all of this conflict,” Missy frowned. “Conflict with Echo, conflict with Chas…what next,” she sighed and crossed her arms, exasperated.

  “Seems to me like Mr. Chas and Miss Echo are pretty darn good folks. If you’re having conflict with them, maybe you oughta take a look at the one common factor.”

  “What one common factor?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “You. When folks are hurting inside, they tend to lash out at the ones they love most, cuz they know they’ll be safe. Those folks ain’t gonna give up on ‘em or walk away from ‘em. But it don’t make it right for us to hurt the ones we love. You gotta figure out what’s going on inside of you, Miss Missy, before you can make things right with them, but you gotta realize…sometimes when you’re having troubles with everyone in your life, the cause of the trouble is you. You just chew on that for a bit and decorate your tree.”

  “I can’t, I have to prepare the girl scout order,” Missy muttered.

  “Girl please. That was done over an hour ago. You think I put my feet up and eat bonbons while you’re gone?” Beulah scoffed.

  “What would I do without you, Beulah?” Missy asked.

  “Lord only knows,” the elderly woman chuckled.

  “Hello, beautiful ladies,” Spencer came in the back door with a smile.

  “Spence, it’s so good to see you,” Missy gave the young man, who was like a son to her, a huge hug.

  “You too,” he grinned.

  “How’s my favorite almost-nephew?” Beulah asked with a knowing smile.

  “Uh…what?” Spencer’s smile faltered.

  “I know you and my precious niece have been getting along pretty well these days,” Beulah’s tone was sing-song and it seemed to make Spencer very uncomfortable.

  “Well, yeah. We’re friends,” he looked at Missy, confused. She just shrugged and shook her head, equally baffled.

  “So that’s what they’re calling it these days,” the old woman chuckled.

  “What? Oh no, ma’am. I think you have the wrong idea. Joyce and I are just friends,” he protested.

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yeah, I’m positive.”

  “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time together lately,” Beulah observed.

  “Sure. We eat and we watch basketball, it’s awesome,” Spencer shrugged.

  “Watch basketball?” Beulah turned around and blinked at the young man. “That’s it?”

  “Yep.”

  “So, you’re not in a relationship?”

  “Not romantically, no.”

  “Then son, you better be doing some tall talking to my niece, because she’s under the impression that you’re her man,” Beulah admonished.

  “I’m…oh boy. No, I’m not…anyone’s man. I made it very clear to Joyce that I wasn’t looking for a relationship.”

  “I think you might want to review that point with her,” Beulah pointed a wooden spoon at him.

  “Oh wow. We’re having dinner tonight. I guess I’ll tell her then, but I swear to you, I thought she knew.”

  “Mmhmm…you’ll always put yourself in danger thinking that you know what’s on a woman’s mind,” she counseled him.

  “Apparently,” he sighed. “Where are the boxes that I need to deliver?”

  “On the counter by the back door, they’re ready to go.”

  “Great, thanks,” Spencer strode quickly toward the back of the kitchen, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

  “Spence, after you drop those off, will you stop by and get the Christmas decorations out of the attic?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Thank you,” Missy gave him a wistful smile.

  “Atta girl. You put up that tree and reflect on your blessings, you’ll be as good as new in no time,” Beulah nodded sagely.

  CHAPTER NINE

  * * *

  There was a little key on the bottom of the Santa Claus sculpture that Missy turned carefully, almost reverently. It had been her mother’s and the dear woman used to wind it up and let it play its selection of carols for hours on end, much to her daughter’s delight.

  Missy flicked on the switch, and tinny music issued forth, bringing with it a flood of memories, and tears to her eyes.

  “I miss you, Mom and Dad,” she whispered, setting the Santa Claus down in the center of a console table in the hallway.

  Her parents had perished in a horrific car accident when she was only seventeen. The tightly-knit community in Louisiana, where she’d been born and raised, rallied round her and helped her keep her family’s cupcake shop open, even while going to school to get her degree. After school, she’d continued to grow the business and eventually opened up an additional location. She’d given one of the stores to a beloved staff member and closed the other one when she moved to Calgon after marrying Chas.

  Her childhood was wrapped up and intertwined with the ornaments, hand-made items and strings of lights contained in the boxes and bins that Spencer had brought down from the attic, and every item that she unwrapped had a sense of bittersweet poignancy to it. Even the slightly musty smell that is common to things that have been stored every year for decades, brought back colorful memories that either made her smile or cry.

  Missy had put together the eight-foot artificial tree, standing on a ladder to do the uppermost branches, and was sipping her cocoa, which had a candy cane sticking out of it, per Beulah’s orders, when Chas came in. He saw what she had been up to and smiled.

  “I wondered when you were going to dive into the holidays,” he kissed her and surveyed the overflowing boxes around him.

  “Well, it doesn’t look like much yet, but it will,” she promised, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Wanna help?”

  “I’d love to, but I have to poke through some of the evidence in Maureen Gatling’s case,” he sighed ruefully. “If you want to save some of this to do tomorrow, I’ll try to slip away for a couple of hours to help.”

  “I’ll probably be done by then, but that’s okay. I thought maybe I’d go shopping later tonight.”

  “Great, that’ll be fun for you. Is Echo joining in?”

  “Uh…no. I think she has her hands full with taking care of Kel,” she sipped her cocoa to avoid his eyes.

  “I bet he’s quite a handful when he’s supposed to be taking it easy,” Chas chuckled.

  “I’d imagine so,” Missy smiled.

  “You okay? You seem…sad or something,” Chas enveloped her in a hug so warm and dear that she almost lost it.

  Taking a deep breath, she replied, “I’m fine. Lots of memories in those boxes.”

  “I bet,” he nodded and kissed her before releasing her. “I’m going to go change into more casual clothes, then head back to the office. Do you need anything before I go?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks for asking though.”

  Chas headed for the stairs, blissfully unaware that his beloved wife was about to fall apart.

  **

  Missy skipped dinner because the overly-sweet cocoa had upset her stomach, and she bravely headed downtown to face the crowds of holiday shoppers. Bells were ringing, choirs sang carols on street corners, and it all felt a bit strange against the backdrop of seventy-degree temperatures, palm trees and the beach.

  Determined to accomplish something, she marched herself into a department store and somehow wound up in the children’s department. Surrounded by pretty little dresses, whimsical leggings and warm, fuzzy sweaters, she of course thought of Kaylee and started to tear up.

  “I’ve got to get out of here,” she muttered and whirled around, almost crashing into the woman standing behind her, who just happened to be Echo.

  “Hey, I thought that looked like you,” Echo said, a dozen girlish outfits over her arm.

  “I was…uh…just Christmas shopping,” Missy floundered, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she remembered Beulah’s wise words. It’s just a m
atter of saying you’re sorry and meaning it. “Echo, listen, I’m really sorry about what I said and the way that I said it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately,” she apologized, hoping that she sounded more sincere than she felt. It had wounded her deeply when Echo had expressed doubts as to whether or not she was ready for parenting.

  “You’ve got a lot on your plate,” Echo said vaguely, not quite managing to smile. “But it’s fine. I’ve gotta run for now, but I’ll talk to you soon,” she waved and bolted for the cashier’s stand.

  “Coffee tomorrow?” Missy called after her.

  “Umm…maybe. Hard to say, it’s really busy at work right now,” she hedged, then disappeared into the crowd.

  Missy’s already icky tummy seemed to flop over as she watched her friend escape.

  “I can’t do this,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m not strong enough to pretend to be happy right now.”

  She strode briskly for the exit, relieved when she took in gulps of fresh air.

  **

  “Hey handsome!” Joyce Rutledge, self-proclaimed bookworm, greeted Spencer with a hug, which he broke away from as soon as it was polite.

  “Hey, it smells delicious in here,” he smiled nervously. Beulah’s intimations about her niece’s intentions toward him had really rattled his cage.

  “Heck yes, it does,” Joyce laughed. “You are in for a treat. I’ve got some hearty beef stew simmering, and fresh, fluffy biscuits in the oven. I’m not even going to tease you with dessert yet, but trust me, you won’t leave my table hungry,” she promised, leading him into the dining room.

  “Go ahead and have a seat at the table, it’ll be ready in about twenty seconds.”

  After Joyce had brought the feast, including a massive chocolate cake, to the table and had seated herself, Spencer marveled at the meal.

  “Wow, this looks amazing. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

  “Ain’t no trouble, silly. My aunt Beulah always says that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Joyce laughed and reached for his plate, loading it up with thick, rich stew and hot buttery biscuits.

  “I don’t even know what that saying means,” Spencer barked a nervous laugh, not wanting to address the elephant in the room during the middle of dinner.

  Joyce stared at him, bemused. Spencer Bengal had a very expensive Ivy League education, and was sharp as a tack as well. “You feeling okay?” she smiled, confused.

  “Yeah, I’m good. It must be the starvation talking,” his gaze dropped to his plate and stayed there until it was emptied.

  “Ready for round two?” Joyce held the spoon up in the air.

  She had tried to engage him in conversation while they ate, but Spencer’s responses had been limited to mostly words of one syllable, which was entirely unlike him. He was typically a great conversationalist.

  “No, that was amazing, but I don’t want to be overstuffed,” he patted his flat, muscular stomach.

  “So…cake now, or cake later?” Joyce clarified.

  “Later, please. Isn’t the game starting soon anyway?” he glanced toward the TV.

  “Yep, tip-off is in about two minutes. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable and I’ll get the table cleared.”

  “Well, I can certainly help with that,” Spencer stood and picked up his plate.

  “Nope, you just go on ahead. It’s a treat for me to have someone to cook for, so just relax and let me spoil you a little bit,” she shooed him away.

  “Uh…okay,” he agreed, feeling ridiculous and awkward.

  He took a seat on the couch, grabbed the remote control, and switched on the game, which was about to start.

  “Hurry, or you’ll miss the tip-off,” he called out, looking forward to the game.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” Joyce called from the kitchen.

  The game started, and Spencer’s discomfort was immediately forgotten as he became engrossed in the action. Joyce came out and sat next to him on the couch, placing two drinks on the coffee table in front of him.

  “Hey handsome, can I capture your attention for just a second?” she asked, grinning at his enthusiasm. The two of them shared a profound love for the game of basketball.

  Spencer tore his eyes away from the game and finally noticed the cocktails in front of him.

  “What’s this all about?” he asked.

  “It’s a celebration, silly,” she smiled, handing him one of the glasses and taking one for herself.

  “A celebration? Of what?” his eyes flicked back toward the screen, he couldn’t help himself.

  Joyce picked up the remote and turned the TV off. Spencer had to put forth a great effort not to groan with frustration.

  “This is our tenth date,” she announced, as though there was some significance to that fact.

  “Oh,” he stared at her, not knowing what was expected of him. “Is that what we’re calling them? Dates? Because…I…uh, kinda just thought that we were like, hanging out, you know?” he floundered.

  “Hanging out?” Joyce set down her drink and raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, you know…like, pals.”

  “Pals,” the word dropped like an ice cube from her lips.

  “Friends,” Spencer amended.

  Joyce stared at him, then smiled coyly.

  “You know…I’ve noticed something,” she said, her eyes caressing him.

  “Yeah?”

  “Mmmhmm…I’ve noticed that you’re a shy guy,” she trailed a fingertip down his forearm.

  “I wouldn’t characterize myself that way,” he shook his head.

  “You haven’t even tried to kiss me yet,” she licked her lips, whether consciously or unconsciously, he didn’t know.

  “Uh…kiss you?” he panicked.

  This conversation was not at all happening the way that he had rehearsed it in his mind.

  “Mmhmm…” she leaned in and closed her eyes.

  Mortified beyond belief, Spencer leaned away and stared at her until she opened them again.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve somehow given you the wrong impression,” he began, as her mocha skin darkened with embarrassment and rage. “I told you from the beginning that I wasn’t ready or looking for a relationship. I thought you understood that,” he said gently.

  Joyce flung herself back against the couch, crossed her arms and started muttering.

  “I should have known it was too good to be true. I finally find someone who is amazing and interesting and doesn’t drive me crazy and he doesn’t want a relationship. Go figure,” she said bitterly, shaking her head. “Just go figure.”

  She looked over at Spencer, who was at a loss for words.

  “What’s wrong with me, huh? What is it that makes me so repulsive that no one wants to be with me?” she asked, tears beginning to well.

  “It’s not you, Joyce, it’s…” Spencer began.

  “Oh geez, “it’s not you, it’s me,” you’re going to use that line? Spare me,” she sprung up from the couch, grabbed the two glasses of cocktails and stormed into the kitchen.

  “Look, I’m really sorry. I’m just not ready for a relationship right now. The last time I opened up and trusted someone, it didn’t end well,” he explained, watching her dump the colorful drinks down the sink.

  “And I’m not her,” Joyce gritted her teeth.

  “I know. I know you’re not, and I was really enjoying getting to know you and spending time with you.”

  “Then what’s the problem? I’m not pretty enough, am I?” her chin jutted forward as she struggled to hold back her tears.

  “You can’t be serious,” Spencer was incredulous. “You’re gorgeous. This has nothing to do with your beauty. I find you stunning.”

  “Have you ever even thought about kissing me?” she asked, a slow tear sliding down her cheek.

  “Of course I’ve thought about it. I’ve even come close to trying it, but I can’t let myself think in those terms yet. I ju
st can’t.”

  “What do you want from me, Spencer?” she stared at him.

  “I just want you to be my friend.”

  “Your friend?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, that’s all I have to give right now,” he spread his hands wide.

  “Fine,” she nodded, tears rolling more frequently now. “We’ll be friends. It’ll be great, I’ll be single the rest of my life,” she sighed and dashed away her tears impatiently with the tips of her fingers. “Look, I’m not going to be very good company right now. Why don’t you take the cake and go? You should be able to catch the second half by the time you get home,” she picked up the cake plate and held it out to him.

  “I can’t take the cake,” he began to protest.

  “Spencer. Take the cake before I throw it at you,” she demanded.

  He took the cake and headed to his car as fast as his feet would carry him. He lived in the caretaker’s cottage at the back of Missy and Chas’s estate, and when he pulled into the drive, he noticed that Missy was home, but Chas wasn’t, so he parked, and grabbing the cake, he went in to check on her.

  Missy looked up when Spencer came into the living room, carrying a chocolate cake, with a concerned look on his face. The house was a disaster, and she sat in the middle of it, staring at her half-decorated tree.

  “You okay?” he asked, setting the cake on the coffee table and sitting beside her on the couch.

  “No,” she replied dully, slowly shaking her head.

  “Is there anything I can do?” he took her hand.

  His small act of kindness was her undoing.

  “Oh Spence, I’m such a horrible human being,” she burst into tears and fell against him.

  The young man wrapped his arms around the woman who had been the only mother-figure that he’d known in a very long time, and rocked gently back and forth, soothing her.

  “It’s gonna be okay, I promise. Tell me what happened,” he encouraged.

  Once her sobs had abated a bit, she let it all out – her tension with Chas, the fight with Echo, her fears about both getting and not getting custody of Kaylee, and the sadness that seemed to be overwhelming her this holiday season. He had no words of wisdom for her, but just his steady presence, assuring her that things would work out eventually, seemed to help tremendously.