“Wow, I wonder what that’s all about?” Grayson said, coming out of the kitchen with a towel in his hands.
“It can’t be good, with that many police cars going by that fast,” Missy mused, frowning.
“Do you know anybody in the department? Someone who worked with Chas?” Echo asked.
Missy shook her head. “Not really. I only met a few of his coworkers at a couple of social functions. Some of them were at the wedding, but I was a little preoccupied that day,” she said ruefully.
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to stay curious, then,” Grayson shrugged, heading back to the kitchen, where he was whipping up another batch of his cupcakes of the week. It was a tradition that Missy had started and he had enthusiastically continued. The customers loved it, and many of them came back—literally every week—to see what the new flavor would be.
His creation today was spectacular, part of why he was making another batch—he’d sold out early on. The cupcakes had chai latte added to the batter, and were topped with cinnamon buttercream frosting and a light sprinkle of nutmeg. Grayson had also made a vegan version—another tradition that Missy had begun when Echo moved to town—and the laid-back redhead assured him that they were simply divine.
“You two must have had quite a rush this morning, if he needs to bake more cupcakes already,” Missy turned to Sarah after Grayson disappeared into the kitchen.
“Oh my goodness, yes. It was crazy in here this morning,” she shook her head, remembering. “I lost count of how many customers came through—it was all such a blur.”
“Yay! Business is booming,” Echo grinned.
“It really is,” Sarah nodded. “Grayson and I may actually open up your other location again if this keeps up.”
“How exciting,” Missy smiled, a faraway look in her eyes.
“We’ll focus on getting married first though,” the young bride-to-be blushed.
“Great idea,” Echo approved. “What do you think of this floral arrangement?” she asked, drawing Sarah’s attention to the page, noting that her best friend was meandering down memory lane, wrapped up in the past.
***
Destiny had been taught all of her life that policemen were brave, kind souls who would help folks who were in trouble, but her heart still skipped a beat when a tall man in a chocolate-brown polyester uniform asked her to have a seat at the dinette in the RV so that he could ask her some questions.
After discovering the bodies in the farmhouse, she had run all the way back to the RV, the large calico cat content to be held firmly in her arms. She’d told her mother about her discovery, not even caring that she might get into trouble for just walking into the kitchen of a stranger’s house. Her mother’s look had gone from skepticism to dawning horror.
Destiny never lied, so while Dolores Crandall didn’t want to believe what sounded like a tall tale that her daughter was telling, she realized that it had to be true.
“Are you certain that they were bodies? Not piles of clothing or something? Or maybe an animal?” Mrs. Crandall had grasped at straws, her heart in her throat.
“Flies don’t collect on piles of clothes, and it wasn’t an animal, it was two people, laying on their backs. There was a ring of candles around them, and everything smelled really bad,” Destiny was stubbornly logical.
When Destiny had finally convinced her mother that she was telling nothing but the truth, Dolores used her cell phone to call the police, hoping like crazy that her husband would be back soon. Evan had headed the opposite way down the road this morning, hoping to find a ride to LaChance, the beautiful town that they’d just passed through.
Destiny told the nice police officer, Officer Simmons, the same story that she had told her mother, and he asked her a lot of questions.
“Did you see anyone else in the house, or in the yard?” he asked, not making her feel like she was in trouble at all.
“No sir,” she shook her head.
“What time was it when you arrived at the house?”
Destiny looked at the ceiling and started thinking out loud. “Well, let’s see… the porch of the house faces east, and the sun was shining. There were some posts that were casting shadows, and judging by the angle of the shadows and the position of the house, I’d say it was probably just before noon,” she finally answered, blinking at the policeman, who glanced at Dolores then back at the tween.
“Are you a Girl Scout or something?” Simmons asked, taken aback.
“No sir, I just learn things,” Destiny replied.
“Okay,” he stared at her for another moment. “How long were you inside the house?”
“Not very long at all. I just looked around a little bit, then I heard the buzzing sound and went to see what was going on. When I saw the… you know,” she shrugged uncomfortably, then continued, “I just turned around and ran out. Charlie followed me, so I brought her inside when we got here.”
“How do you know that the cat’s name is Charlie?” the officer probed.
“I just think she looks like a Charlie, and she seems to like it,” she said, looking down at the cat, who had sauntered over and leapt into her lap, purring contentedly as Destiny stroked her furry chin.
“Is there anything else that you can think of that you remember?”
“No sir, I think I’ve told you everything that I remember,” she replied, her fingers absently twiddling Charlie’s ears.
“Mrs. Crandall, may I see you outside for a moment?” Officer Simmons asked, leading the way out of the RV.
“Fix us some lunch, Destiny,” Dolores said, touching her daughter’s hair on her way out.
“I’m not hungry, Mom,” she mumbled, kissing the top of Charlie’s head.
“Destiny… make some lunch,” Dolores Crandall underscored her words by raising her eyebrows. Destiny knew what the eyebrows meant.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, trying not to sigh.
***
“Where is your husband, Mrs. Crandall?” the officer asked, once outside.
“He was headed to town to try to find a mechanic or a tow truck,” Dolores explained, nervous.
“What time did he leave?”
“I don’t know… sometime this morning,” she shrugged uncertainly.
“Before your daughter went for her walk, or after?”
“Before. He left pretty shortly after breakfast.”
“Don’t you find it odd that he hasn’t returned yet?” Simmons looked at her pointedly.
“No, sometimes it can take quite a while to find a mechanic or a tow truck in smaller towns,” Dolores shook her head.
“What’s your home address, ma’am?”
“We don’t have one.”
“Your vehicle is registered in Florida. How did you manage to register it, without a home address?”
“We use my sister’s address,” she sounded defensive and crossed her arms.
“How do you make a living exactly, if you ride around in an RV all the time?” Simmons squinted at her.
Dolores Crandall had endured puzzled looks and suspicion in the past, but it hadn’t ever involved dead bodies until now, so she was understandably rattled.
“My husband is a freelance writer. He writes travel articles and science fiction novels—you’ve probably heard of him. Whenever we get to a town that’s big enough to have a café or motel with free Wi-Fi, he sends his writing off to his publishers, and they wire money into our bank account.”
“I’m going to need to have a conversation with him when he returns,” Officer Simmons said, staring at her skeptically, handing her a card with the police department’s phone number on it.
“If I haven’t heard from you by five o’clock, I’m going to be paying you another visit,” he promised, his tone suddenly cold. “Don’t move this RV until you’re directed to do so, or I’ll confiscate it as evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” Dolores hissed in a low tone, glancing back at the RV, not wanting Destiny to hear.
> “That, Mrs. Randall, is what I’m going to find out,” Simmons snapped his notebook shut and strode toward his patrol car. “Five o’clock,” he called out, not bothering to look back.
Dolores Crandall watched him go, hands on hips, biting her lower lip in consternation.
CHAPTER FOUR
Echo was in their suite at the B&B talking on the phone to Kel, who had put his phone on speaker so that Daimler and Benz could hear their mistress, when Missy decided that she was ready for a walk. It was that lovely time of day in Louisiana when the heat began to cool and walking outside became a tranquil experience. The rays of the sun had just started to slip behind the stately trees lining the route from the B&B to the park, and Missy slipped a packet of Echo’s tissues into the pocket of her light jacket, just in case.
Grabbing a water bottle from the cooler at the foot of the stairs, she headed out the front door, intentionally heading in a direction that would take her directly by her old family home. A fierce nostalgia gripped her as she walked slowly down one familiar block and another. In some ways, she felt as if she were still part of LaChance; in others, she seemed to have left long, long ago. She and Chas had built a wonderful life for themselves in Calgon, but her heart still occasionally yearned for all that had once been dear and familiar.
Missy turned a corner to head down her old street, her heart thudding dully in her chest. When she looked up and saw her house, her breath caught and her vision blurred with tears. Gone was the buttery-yellow color of the gracious Victorian, repainted just the year before she’d left. The new owners had painted the house a soft shade of green, and had replaced her snow-white shutters with black ones. It looked beautiful, but Missy felt heartsick. Her feet had drawn her unconsciously toward the home, and she soon stood in front of it, unaware of the hot tears slipping down her cheeks.
Visions of her mother, father, and sister flashed through her mind as the porch swing creaked in the gentle evening breeze. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, practically tasting the cool refreshment of her mother’s sweet tea…
“Everything okay, honey?” a cultured southern voice startled her.
Missy had been so lost in her memories that she hadn’t heard the pretty forty-something woman approach. Unable to speak, or even form a coherent thought for a moment, she just stared.
“Can I call somebody for you?” the woman tried again, tentatively approaching the woman crying on the sidewalk in front of her house.
Snapping out of it, and realizing just how foolish she must look, Missy blushed and replied.
“Oh, goodness. No, I’m fine, I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “This… this used to be my house. Well, my parents’ house and then my house. I had a sister…” she babbled on, embarrassed.
“Well, no wonder you’re having a moment,” the woman smiled sympathetically, patting Missy’s shoulder. “I’m Karen. My husband Dillon and I own the house and we just love it. We have two daughters and a German shepherd named Bubba.”
Missy smiled through her tears and introduced herself, then, as if he’d heard his name, Bubba came tearing around the corner of the house, tail wagging happily.
“This is our big tough guy,” Karen chuckled as Bubba drowned her in happy kisses. “He loves walking to the park that’s just down the way.”
“My dogs loved that too,” Missy nodded, delighted by the exuberant shepherd.
Having recovered a bit, she tried to explain herself. “I’m sorry that I just stood out here bawling like a lost calf,” she laughed ruefully. “This is the first time that I’ve been back to LaChance since I moved several months ago, and it’s been… surreal.”
“I can’t even imagine,” the kind woman shook her head sympathetically. “Would you like to come in and have some lemonade?” she offered, wiping Bubba’s kisses from her face with the sleeve of her sweater.
“No, I really can’t. I need to get my walk in before the sun goes down. Thank you so much for offering, though,” Missy smiled and reached into her pocket for a tissue, wiping her eyes.
As Missy walked away, Karen called out, “stop by anytime,” and turned to head back into the house with Bubba.
“Thanks,” Missy replied with a wave. She doubted that she’d be able to set foot in the house that now belonged to strangers; despite her curiosity, she was unwilling to see the internal changes for herself.
Head down for a time, Missy’s feet went on automatic pilot and took her down the familiar route to the park where she’d spent so much happy time with Toffee, Bitsy, and eventually Chas. Heading straight for the swings, she somehow knew that the rhythmic kick, pump, soar of swinging would be good therapy. She flew higher and higher, glad that the park was deserted, tilting her head back and feeling her hair fly out behind her as she closed her eyes and flew.
“Wow, you’re really high,” a delicate voice said solemnly, startling Missy back to earth.
A girl of maybe twelve stood, hands stuffed in the pockets of her sweatshirt, appraising Missy’s style and skill on the swings. Just as she had when she was little, Missy scuffed the toes of her shoes in the rut below the swing to slow down and come to a stop.
“Well, hello there,” Missy greeted the girl, somewhat surprised that she was in the park without an adult, or at least a friend.
“Hi,” she raised a hand in a small wave, then sank into the swing beside Missy, looking dejected.
“Are you okay?” Missy asked, concerned.
“Yeah,” the girl turned surprisingly wise eyes to her. “Are you?”
Suddenly, somehow, Missy felt less like the adult in the situation, and more like a kindred soul. She nodded and gave a weak smile, knowing that the girl hadn’t missed her tearstained face and pocket full of crumpled tissue.
“Yes, I’m fine. What are you doing out here by yourself?” she asked kindly.
“I just had to get out of there. Mom and Dad were having a disagreement, and conflict makes me sad,” she shrugged.
Missy’s mama-bear radar went off, and she sat up straighter in the swing.
“Were you in danger?”
The girl gave a wry smile and shook her head.
“No, it’s not like that at all. My parents are more of the ‘analyze and attack the problem together’ types. Their disagreements are completely nonviolent; I just prefer when they agree.”
Missy stared at the articulate, intelligent young woman, thinking that she was exceptionally educated and insightful.
“You’re not from LaChance, are you?”
The girl smiled.
“No, but I sort of wish I was. I love your accent, and it’s so pretty here. Everyone has been really nice… except the policeman, he was sort of terse with my mom.”
Even with alarm bells going off in her head at the mention of police involvement in the girl’s life, Missy mentally registered that most adults that she knew wouldn’t have chosen to use the word “terse,” but from this young lady, it had sounded completely natural.
“Policeman?”
The girl, who introduced herself as Destiny, explained matter-of-factly what had happened to her that morning, and Missy’s jaw dropped in surprise.
“You poor dear, what an awful thing to have to deal with,” she murmured.
“I’m okay. I’m just worried that they think that my dad was involved. My dad would never hurt anyone. Those cupcakes in the house looked really good before I saw everything else,” Destiny mused, reminding Missy that, despite her adult demeanor, she was still twelve.
“Well, if you make it into town tomorrow, I know a place where they make the best cupcakes in the whole world. It’s called G&G, and if you go in there and tell them that Missy sent you, they’ll give you one,” she smiled, glad to be able to offer even the smallest ray of sunshine.
“Really?” her eyes widened.
“Really,” Missy nodded.
“Wow, that’s great—thank you. I know I’ll still be here tomorrow, because the police told Dad that we can’t leave
until they say so.”
“Well, I’m sorry that you have to go through all of this, Destiny, I know it must be scary.”
“The unknown always is,” she sighed, causing Missy to blink at her in surprise, yet again. “Well, I’d better get going. If I’m not home before dark, my mom will worry, and she really has enough to worry about these days.”
Destiny slid out of the swing and headed back the way that she had come.
“It was nice meeting you, ma’am. Thanks for talking to me,” she gave a brief, sad smile before continuing on her way.
“Bye-bye, sweetie—take care now,” Missy replied, watching her go, brow furrowed, chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully.
CHAPTER FIVE
“That poor little thing,” Echo said, when she, Sarah, and Grayson heard Missy’s recounting of her conversation with Destiny. “There must be some way that we can help.”
“Well, as I recall, the two of you are pretty good at unearthing clues and solving mysteries,” Grayson pointed out.
Missy and Echo exchanged a look.
“Now I wish we had brought Kel with us,” Echo commented.
“That man can get a fence post to talk to him and give up secret knowledge,” Missy chuckled. “Grayson is right…maybe I should wander down to the police department and see if anyone recognizes me and will talk about the case.”
“Doesn’t look like you’ll have to,” Sarah’s eyes widened.
The other three followed her gaze and saw a squad car pulling up in front of the shop. A grim-faced officer stepped out of the vehicle and came to the front door. The shop wasn’t open yet, so Grayson jumped up to unlock the door.
“Good morning, Officer. We’re not open just yet, but I’d be happy to bag up some cupcakes for you anyway, and there’s fresh coffee…” he began, to be interrupted.
“Are you Grayson Myers?”
“Yes, I am. I’m the owner here.”
Chai Cupcake Killer: Book 4 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series Page 2
