Chai Cupcake Killer: Book 4 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series

by Summer Prescott

  Echo didn’t like the idea, but nodded, figuring there was no turning back now. The stairs creaked nearly as loudly as the door had, and she winced with every step, her mind conjuring images of a madman waiting in a dark corner of the house, planning to spring out from behind the drapes, wielding a knife or hatchet or scimitar or something. It was rather anticlimactic when Missy opened the door and nothing happened.

  The friends paused in the doorway to listen, then Missy shrugged and stepped into the kitchen. Although the bodies had been removed, a horrific scent still lingered, causing Echo to put her hand over her nose so that she didn’t retch. She looked over the top of her hand at her friend, her eyes large.

  “It’s okay,” Missy whispered. “We won’t be here long. Let’s just have a quick look around.”

  They moved further into the kitchen, and Echo spotted a basket on the counter that had dust from the forensic team coating it. Blowing a bit, she scattered the dust and saw that it was a welcome basket that had a tag on it. Pointing to it in order to call it to Missy’s attention, she looked at her friend questioningly.

  “I never got one of these when I moved to town,” she whispered.

  “You moved to Dellville, not LaChance,” Missy replied. “But the Chamber of Commerce stopped giving out welcome baskets a long time ago, I think,” she looked puzzled. “We’ll stop by there in the morning, and I’ll visit with Marge, the secretary. She’ll let us know if they still do the baskets.”

  Echo nodded. “I hate to say it, but we should probably go in there,” she indicated the doorway that Destiny had described when she had told them about her gruesome discovery.

  Missy agreed, and led the way, stopping short when she saw what had obviously been the crime scene. There was a ring of candles, and in the center was a police chalk outline of two bodies. Not wanting to, but needing more information, the friends stepped forward to get a closer look. Echo bent down carefully to get a look at one of the candles, and saw that there was something near it that she couldn’t quite make out.

  “I need the light from the phone, just for a second,” she whispered to warn Missy before tapping the button on her phone. There was only a couple of seconds of illumination, but she saw what she needed to see, and frowned, wondering.

  Missy was about to speak when suddenly there was a loud creak in another room. They froze, wide-eyed, hearts pounding, and were suddenly nearly blinded by a light shined directly at them.

  “What are you doing here?” a gruff voice growled. Oddly, the voice, which could have come from any number of animated monsters, belonged instead to a man who looked more like a professor than an axe murderer.

  Missy stood to her full height, petite though she was, and glared at the man who had frightened them. She knew that he wasn’t a police officer, because he hadn’t announced himself and wasn’t following any sort of protocol.

  “What are we doing here? I’d ask you the same thing, mister,” she barked back, eyes spitting fire.

  “Honey, duck!” Echo shouted suddenly, looking past the man’s left shoulder. “I think he’s going to shoot that man!”

  Her ruse worked, and the professorial man turned away from them in fear, looking for the gunman taking aim at him. Echo grabbed Missy by the arm and ran as fast as she could, through the kitchen and into the basement. They heard the man’s footsteps pounding behind them once he realized that he’d been duped, but they were nearly to the root cellar door. They climbed quickly up the stairs as the man descended into the basement, and shut the root cellar door behind them, bracing it from the outside with a weathered two-by-six board that was fortuitously lying beside the opening.

  It would be only a matter of time before the man either used another exit or broke through that one, so Missy and Echo ran for the trees as fast as they could. Their rapid departure had been well timed, because just as they disappeared into the thickness of the woods, lights and sirens descended upon the farmhouse, silhouetting the figure of a man who at first attempted to flee, but was chased down all too quickly by LaChance’s finest.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Evan Crandall sat miserably in the corner of a holding cell at the LaChance jail, wondering how on earth things he had ended up arrested. The disheveled author felt bruised and bewildered. The police had discovered him in the front yard of what was now being referred to as “The Murder House,” and had taken him into custody immediately.

  “Crandall?” Officer Betty Johnson drawled from the other side of the bars.

  Unwashed, unshaven, and feeling distinctly grubby, Evan stood wearily, saying nothing, and not approaching the door.

  “Time to go have a chat with Officer Simmons,” Johnson commented, her keys jangling while she unlocked the cell.

  Crandall silently followed her to an interrogation room, where he sat as instructed in a cold metal chair that was bolted to the floor. He knew that the darkened windows in the room were made of two-way glass, so that he couldn’t see out, but others could see in, and somehow that made him feel claustrophobic. Officer Simmons hadn’t exactly been kind to him last night, and he wasn’t looking forward to another seemingly endless interrogation.

  The tall, beefy officer regarded Evan Crandall coldly.

  “When are you just going to confess to this mess and get it over with?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at his prisoner.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the author replied dully, not looking at the officer, who seemed disgusted by his response.

  “What were you doing at that house last night?” Simmons growled, tapping his ballpoint pen on the legal pad in front of him.

  “I told the other officers last night… I was just looking around, trying to figure out what had happened.”

  “My officers said that they found you running from the house.”

  “There were two women in the house when I was looking for clues,” Evan said, flustered. “They ran out and I chased them. I think they may have had something to do with the murders.”

  “Two women, huh?” Simmons mocked him. “Funny how my officers didn’t report seeing two women fleeing the scene. Maybe they were the ghosts of the ladies you killed and they just went ‘poof’, huh?” he scoffed.

  “You’re being ridiculous. I’m giving you a potential lead as to who the killers might be and you’re dismissing it without making even the slightest nod toward an investigation,” Evan came to life.

  “I just find it awfully convenient that my prime suspect is trying his darndest to make me go out on a wild goose chase, thinking that he can just climb back up into his RV and hit the road. I tell you what, Mr. Crandall, I’m looking into every stop that you’ve made for the last couple of years that you’ve been on the road, and if I get even the slightest hint that you’ve done something like this before, I will find the evidence that’ll put you away for a very long time. Are we quite clear on that?” he leaned so far toward Crandall that the unfortunate prisoner could smell Simmons’s breakfast.

  “I’m innocent,” he sighed, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, sure. All the felons say that,” Simmons sneered. “Johnson,” he instructed grimly, “take him back to lockup. Let’s give him some time to consider the error of his ways.” Before stalking from the room, he gave Evan Crandall one last glare.

  Evan shuffled back down the hall behind Officer Johnson, wondering if he’d ever see his family again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  When Missy and Echo arrived at the cupcake shop the next morning, they were surprised to find Grayson and Sarah standing out front, looking worried.

  “What’s going on, darlin?” Missy asked, placing a hand on Grayson’s arm and peering inside the shop, which was swarming with police.

  “They’re searching the entire shop,” Grayson shook his head. “They said it would probably take quite a while and that we’d need to clean up afterward, so I just closed for today.”

  “What are they looking for?” Echo wondered, frowning.

  �
��I have no idea, but I would guess that it’s probably something that would tie the shop to the murders,” Sarah bit her lip to keep it from trembling, and Missy wrapped a comforting arm around her waist.

  “Well, we all know that they’re not going to find anything, so we just won’t worry about it,” Missy said firmly.

  “We could go somewhere and try to get some wedding planning done,” Echo suggested, hoping that a change of scenery and focus might ease the young couple’s minds a bit.

  “It’s a lovely idea, but I honestly don’t think that I’d be able to concentrate, knowing what’s going on here,” Sarah confessed, and Grayson nodded his agreement.

  “What if they find something that looks suspicious?” he worried. “I mean, we all know that Sarah and I had nothing to do with this, but what if something is here that makes us look guilty. There are tons of people in and out of here all the time… what if one of them was trying to frame us or something?”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, sweetie,” Missy cautioned. “They probably won’t find anything anyway.”

  “They were putting things in little plastic bags and taking them to a police van when I walked out back a little while ago,” Sarah volunteered softly, staring at the ground.

  Missy and Echo exchanged a worried glance.

  “See?” Grayson shook his head and nervously cracked his knuckles.

  “We’ve got work to do,” Echo said suddenly, with determination.

  Everyone looked at her expectantly.

  “We have to find out who those women were, what they might have been hiding, and who in this town might have wanted them dead,” she explained, and then turned to Missy. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” her eyes narrowed as a plan occurred to her.

  “Yep,” Missy nodded. “It’s time to go see Irma.”

  Irma Barnes was seventy-four years old, and still ran the women’s fellowship at the Methodist Church in LaChance. She knew nearly everyone in town, and was well versed on the relationships, business dealings, and scandals that happened in LaChance. Missy had volunteered with her several times, and had discovered that the elderly gal had a fierce cupcake addiction.

  Sarah managed to convince one of the police officers to let her in so that she could pack up some cupcakes for Missy. When Missy and Echo arrived at the immaculate home of Irma Barnes, they would be fully armed with sweet bribes to get the gregarious gal talking.

  ***

  “Well, Melissa Gladstone, as I live and breathe!” Irma exclaimed when she opened the door, reaching out to pinch Missy’s cheeks and give her a hug.

  “It’s Missy Beckett now,” Missy reminded her.

  “Oh, that’s right, child. You married that handsome young detective, Charles. I’d nearly forgotten.” Irma looked at Echo with a slight frown, as though she was trying to place her.

  “You remember my friend Echo,” Missy helped her out. “She owned the ice cream shop over in Dellville for a while.”

  Recognition dawned in the older woman’s merry brown eyes. “Oh yes, you’re the California girl who eats synthetic food or something,” she tried to remember.

  “I’m vegan,” Echo clarified, trying not to laugh.

  “Uh-huh…” Irma looked confused.

  They all stared at each other for a moment, until Irma broke the silence.

  “Well, where are my manners? I can’t have my visitors standing out on the porch like vacuum cleaner salesmen—come on in, darlings,” she said, turning and disappearing into the house with no question that they’d follow.

  “We brought you some cupcakes from G&G,” Missy said to the silver-capped back of their hostess’s head.

  “Oh my goodness, then I’m just gonna bring out a pitcher of sweet tea and set awhile with you gals,” Irma replied with delight.

  “That would be lovely,” Missy replied, glancing at Echo and exchanging an invisible high five.

  They all settled in Irma’s pristine powder blue sitting room, sipping divine sweet tea and nibbling on cupcakes.

  “So what brings y’all by today?” Irma asked, delicately stabbing at her cupcake with a small dessert fork.

  “Well, we couldn’t come back to LaChance and not drop by, now could we?” Missy smiled. She may have been away from Louisiana for a while, but she would never stray far from her genteel upbringing.

  “Your mama raised you right, sugar,” Irma nodded her approval. “How are the wedding plans going?”

  Even though Irma barely knew Grayson or Sarah, she was completely aware of their wedding plans.

  “Not very well, at this point, I’m afraid,” Missy set down her delicate china plate.

  Irma’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth, and she set it down, staring at Missy.

  “Do tell… those sweet children haven’t called it off now, have they?”

  “Oh no, not at all,” she assured her. “It’s just difficult to get into the planning of it when they have that whole nasty business with the cupcakes and the poison hanging over their heads,” she sighed, hoping Irma would take the bait.

  The thought crossed Echo’s mind that Missy could probably charm the skin from a snake if she put her mind to it. The old woman clearly looked ready to share.

  “Oh, sugar, I know! It’s just awful,” Irma shook her head. “Now you and I both know that those young kids at the cupcake shop didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Exactly, but until they find out who did, the police are going to make things difficult for Sarah and Grayson.”

  “Well, that’s just ridiculous. Those women weren’t even from here originally. How could they have made enemies that quickly. Although, with the business that they were in…” she trailed off.

  “What business was that?” Echo intentionally widened her eyes and moderated her tone to sound innocent.

  “Just between y’all, me, and the fence post,” Irma leaned forward. “They were running one of those… oh whatchacallit… escort services,” she whispered. “On the Internet. Now, I don’t know about y’all, but that sort of thing seems pretty fishy to me, and they may have run into a bona fide psychopath doing that stuff. That’s what I think,” she nodded sagely.

  Missy and Echo were nonplussed, neither saying anything for a moment.

  “But, isn’t there a guy in an RV…” Missy began, and Irma’s eyes widened as she pounced on the statement.

  “Yes! Exactly! That’s what I’m sayin, sugar. Don’t y’all think it’s just a bit peculiar that this family who travels all the time in that RV, just happened to break down right down the road from those gals?” she pursed her lips, eyes wide.

  “I talked with Sammy, down at the auto repair shop—his saint of a mother moved to Florida a while back—and he said that when the gentleman came in, he was acting sort of… suspicious-like,” she continued.

  “Really? What was he doing?” Missy asked.

  “Asking all sorts of questions, like, did he have the Internet and such.”

  “Well, he’s a writer who transmits his stories via the Internet, so that doesn’t seem so odd,” Echo commented.

  Irma looked at her as though she’d just descended from a spaceship.

  “That’s what he’d like us all to believe,” she rolled her eyes. “Are we really to take the word of a man who admits that he makes up stories for a living?”

  Missy could see the conversation headed downhill and tried another tactic.

  “Did you ever meet the gals?”

  “I surely did,” Irma nodded. “They were at the market one day—mother and daughter—said they were from up north somewhere. Names were Carol and Chloe. I remember thinking at the time that I didn’t know how well they’d fit in down here in LaChance, but I was neighborly to them, just the same.”

  “Of course you were,” Missy affirmed. “Do you remember where ‘up north’ they were from?”

  “Oh, darlin, I don’t know…New York, Pennsylvania, Chicago… one of them Yankee places,” Irma chuckled. “Seemed n
ice enough. It’s a shame what happened.”

  “How did they happen to buy that particular house? When I left here, the Brookshires still owned it,” Missy remembered.

  “Oh, there’s another sad story,” the old woman shook her head and took a sip of sweet tea.

  Missy and Echo exchanged a glance. Perhaps now they were getting somewhere.

  “What happened?”

  “Well, as you know, Elmer and Mirella were both doing poorly. Old age just grabbed the both of ’em and shook ’em to and fro, poor lambs.” Irma took a breath, and sipped her tea before continuing.

  “So, Elmer passed, and it was in his will that the farm would go to Mirella, but that Bubba should move back home to take care of his mama,” she shook her head ruefully.

  “Well, that Bubba… that boy could never keep hisself out of the bottle, and when these Yankee women came along asking if he would sell them the house, he agreed. Sold that lovely home for about a third of what it was worth, dropped his mama off at her sister Gladys’s house, and headed for the hills, never to be seen again in LaChance. Mirella passed just a few weeks ago,” Irma continued sadly. “In a way, that’s a blessing. She never had to know that evil paid a visit to her lovely farm.”

  “Evil?” Echo asked, remembering the ring of candles around the body and the oddity that she’d discovered beside one of the candles.

  “Well now, honey, you don’t suppose it was good and kindly folk who killed them two ladies, do ya?” Irma challenged.

  “No, clearly not,” Echo said quietly.

  “Irma, it was so good seeing your sweet face today,” Missy stood to go, and Echo followed her lead.

  “Oh, it was lovely seeing you too, sugar. Y’all come by anytime,” she offered, giving the gals a hug and kissing Missy on the cheek. “Land sakes if you don’t look like your dear mama,” she said fondly, making Missy’s eyes sting with tears for a moment.