“Is anyone staying there?” he asked, seeming to speak to no one in particular.
When no one answered his question, he swung his gaze to Missy.
“I think they’re completely booked right now,” she answered, not wanting Maggie to have to deal with him.
“Who’s staying there?” he persisted in the same nervous, demanding tone.
“I have no idea,” Missy shrugged, not dropping her gaze for an instant. “I think it’s a semi-pro football team.”
The man seemed to accept her answer and returned his gaze to the window.
“Text Chas or Spencer,” Echo mouthed to her, and Missy nodded.
She texted them both, and the man stood up, leaving the shop without a word or a backward glance, leaving a completely untouched cupcake on the plate. Echo stood to go clear the plate, but Missy stopped her before she got there.
“Don’t touch it,” she advised.
“Why?”
“Because that guy was beyond creepy. Chas might want to run his fingerprints or something.”
“Makes sense,” Echo nodded. “Wow, I thought my new neighbor was a little weird, but this guy takes the cake.”
“Or not,” Missy quipped, staring at the untouched cupcake.
Chas and Spencer came in just then and the two women explained what had happened.
“What did he look like?” the detective asked.
“Pale, carrot-red hair, wire-framed glasses…” Missy supplied, trailing off when she saw the look that passed between Spencer and her husband. “What?”
“Waldo,” the Marine replied.
“Who’s Waldo?” Missy asked.
“Isn’t that supposed to be “where’s Waldo?” Echo joked, looking for some comic relief.
“It is now,” Chas frowned.
Chapter 10
Gingham and the band had taken over the pool and hot tub for the evening, and were having a great time, unwinding and letting their hair down for the first time in months. There were no fans hanging around asking for autographs, no record companies pushing for more recordings, and no publicists breathing down their necks for Public Relations events. The country singer had been in a swimsuit literally all day, and couldn’t be happier.
“Joey, will you open this for me, please?” Gingham handed the guitarist her bottle of beer as she lounged on the steps leading into the pool.
“How many is that now?” Carter called out from the nearby hot tub.
“What difference does it make?” the singer giggled, feeling just slightly tipsy.
“About ten pounds and a lot of bad decisions, potentially,” her manager drawled.
“Geez, dude, can you lay off for one day? Let the girl have some fun, you buzzkill,” Joey mocked him.
“Are you gonna be the one holding her hair before she passes out on the bathroom floor tonight?” Carter shot back, irritably.
The guitarist frowned. “Yeah, if I need to. What is your problem lately? You’re on everybody’s case and we’re getting sick of it,” he said, opening Gingham’s beer and settling down next to her on the pool steps.
“Cry me a river,” Carter muttered.
“Maybe Spencer will hold my hair,” she giggled, talking to Joey and drawing a stony glare from her manager.
“You need to stay away from that guy,” Carter had obviously overheard her comment. “He seems like bad news.”
“Whatever, man. The dude saved our girl more than once, you might want to cut him some slack,” Joey drawled.
“You got a crush on him or something?” the manager taunted.
“Why, you jealous?”
Carter finally fell silent, dismissing the comment with a disgusted wave of his hand, and Gingham took a long, satisfying pull from her hard-earned beer.
Unbeknownst to the band, Spencer had witnessed that entire exchange, and it took a great deal of willpower for him to remain out of sight, acting as a silent sentinel, watching over the delicate and delightful singer. He wasn’t the only one who had heard the exchange, and, like him, the other watcher was none too pleased.
When the party broke up, shortly after midnight, Spencer made certain that Gingham was safely in her room for the night, then headed down to his basement apartment to get some sleep.
The entrance to the apartment was on the around the back corner of the Inn, accessible only from the outside, and Spencer hadn’t been inside on the couch watching Netflix with his cat, Moose for more than ten minutes when he heard a soft sound outside the door. Reaching for the knife that he kept strapped to his calf, hidden by his jeans, he set Moose down and moved stealthily toward the door, hugging the wall beside it as a matter of habit. He heard the noise again and placed his hand on the knob. Turning it lightning fast, he jerked open the door, ready to spring upon whomever waited on the other side of it.
Gingham jumped back with a sharp intake of breath at the instant appearance of the Marine, then started giggling.
“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” she asked, with a silly grin, slurring her words slightly.
Spencer re-sheathed his knife, taking a deep breath to fight the adrenalin that was now coursing through his system.
“No, I’m awake, what are you doing here?” he asked, leading her to stand just inside the door, scanning the immediate vicinity for intruders before closing it.
“I just wanted to come see you and say thank you again for rescuing me,” she said, wandering further into the apartment and looking around curiously. “Wow, this is a really nice place. Are you always this neat?”
“Yeah, I like to keep things simple,” he said, his gaze following her somewhat unsteady movements. “Look, I don’t think that you should be down here…” he began.
“Oh! You have a kitty!” she exclaimed, delighted to see Moose, who usually avoided anyone other than Spencer and Missy like the plague. She scooped him up and hugged him close, and he miraculously decided to play along, purring and burrowing under her neck.
“That’s Moose,” Spencer said, wondering how to get the slightly inebriated singer back to her room.
“Aww…he’s so sweet,” she cooed. “Hi Moosie,” she scratched his favorite spot between the ears, and plopped down onto the couch.
“Uh, look…I should really escort you back to your room,” Spencer stood towering over her awkwardly.
“Why?” she asked, focusing her attention on the cat.
“Because it’s late and I have to work tomorrow and you need your rest, and I’m not quite sure just how appropriate it is to have a guest in my room,” the Marine explained gently.
“But, I’m not just a guest, we’re friends. You saved my life,” she smiled up at him in a way that made him want to melt into the carpet.
“Okay, that’s fair,” he nodded. “But how about we talk more about that tomorrow, after we’ve both had a good sleep.”
“I’m not sleepy,” she blinked at him.
“I am.”
Gingham stood and gently put Moose down. Unfazed, he ignored the humans and began licking his paw as though his life depended upon it.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked, brown eyes huge.
“Not at all,” Spencer smiled. “I just need to get to bed.”
“Okay,” she nodded. She stepped closer with a mischievous grin on her face and suddenly wrapped her arms around the Marine, holding tight. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome,” he hugged her back, enjoying the feel of her in his arms.
She tilted her head back and gazed up at him in a manner that held him spellbound.
“I like you, Spencer,” she announced, brushing her lips ever so lightly against his. “Will you walk me to my room?”
Stunned, he nodded. “Yep,” was all that he could manage in reply.
He took a moment to collect his wits before venturing out of the apartment, and once again scanned the area before letting Gingham out ahead of him. She captured his hand in hers and held it as they walked to the front of the In
n, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
“How did you find my apartment?” he asked, standing outside of her room.
“You said it was in the basement. I just wandered around, looking for a door that looked like it led to a basement,” she shrugged.
“Pretty smart,” he brushed a lock of hair back from her face. “But next time, don’t wander around by yourself, okay? Just text me if you need something, deal?”
“Deal,” she nodded, biting her lower lip and driving him a bit mad in the process.
Spencer took a breath. “Good,” he said, forcing himself to leave. “Sleep well, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right as he left the Inn, but he couldn’t put his finger on anything specific either, so he shook it off and headed back to his place. He’d been serious about needing some rack time - being constantly on alert was taxing.
Chapter 11
“So, that sweet young girl has a stalker?” Echo asked, wide-eyed, after Missy told her the identity of the orange-haired stranger who had come into the shop the day before.
“Unfortunately,” she nodded, worried about the singer. “Spencer has been keeping an eye on her, and Chas is stepping up patrols in the area, poor dear.”
“What can we do?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. Chas told me the man’s name, Elgin Hansen. I think that we should try to find out what we can about him. If we can understand something about his past, or his behavior, or something, maybe we can figure out what his next move might be,” Missy proposed.
“Like, maybe there’s a pattern? I get it,” Echo nodded. “Great idea. You know who would be a huge help with this…”
“Your fiancé?”
“He’s not my fiancé…yet,” she made a face. “I’ll call him and tell him the plan.”
Missy’s phone buzzed. She looked at it and gasped.
“What?” Echo demanded.
“We may be too late,” she said heading for the door. “Something has happened at the Inn.”
“I’ll stay here and guard the fort,” her friend called after her.
**
By the time Missy made it to the front door of the Inn, patrol cars and an ambulance arrived on the scene, followed, morbidly enough, by the coroner’s car. Her heart in her throat, she dashed up the front steps, only to be met by Spencer in the foyer.
“You can’t go up there, ma’am,” he said, blocking the stairway. “And trust me, you wouldn’t want to.”
“Oh, Spence, what happened…who…?” she couldn’t finish her sentence.
“Carter. He was pretty heavily intoxicated last night, so when he didn’t show up to breakfast, everyone just assumed that he was hung over. Joey went up to see if he was okay, and found the door to his room open, and Carter on the floor without a pulse,” he explained quietly.
Missy heard the sounds of Gingham and the band grieving in the parlor. Some officers were talking to Bobby and taking notes, while Gingham cried on Joey’s shoulder.
“Do you know what happened to him?” she whispered, glancing toward the parlor.
“The coroner just went in, but if I had to make a guess, I’d say that he was poisoned.”
“Oh my goodness,” Missy’s hands went to her throat. “Was it another snake?”
Spencer stared at her as though something had just dawned on him. “I don’t know, but that’s certainly something to look for. Let me go say something to Chas about it – why don’t you go see if you can do anything for Gingham. She’s having a rough time.”
“Okay, go,” she nodded, heading for the parlor.
“Gingham? Sweetie, are you okay?” Missy asked kneeling in front of the sofa where the young woman sat, dabbing at her eyes with a frayed ball of tissue.
The singer shook her head. “Oh, Mrs. Beckett, it’s just so awful. I can’t believe that something like this happened. We came here to this out of the way place because it was quiet and safe, and we thought no one would be able to find us,” she cried. “How could this happen?”
“I don’t know, darlin,” Missy said, sitting beside her on the sofa and putting an arm around her. “I’m so sorry. I know Chas and the guys will do everything they can to find whoever did this,” she promised.
“I don’t feel well,” Gingham sniffled. Missy looked at her with alarm.
“No, it’s okay, I’m not sick or anything, I just want to lie down, I can’t deal with all of this right now. Can I go lie down? Please?” she pleaded.
“Of course, honey,” Missy gave her shoulders a squeeze. “If Chas needs to speak with you again, he can do it after you rest for a bit.”
“I’ll take her to her room,” Joey offered quietly, and Missy nodded.
Chapter 12
After a long evening with an Inn full of police, Missy finally dropped off into a fitful sleep, just sick at heart for what Gingham and the members of the band were going through. They had their differences, but were a tight-knit group that had been torn apart by tragedy. She dragged herself to Cupcakes in Paradise the next morning, surprised to see Echo and Kel already there, chatting together like they always had. It was just the thing that she needed to see to lift her spirits after such a difficult day the day before.
“You two are here early…what’s the occasion?” she asked, giving each of them a hug.
Kel was a bit thinner, but otherwise looked none the worse for the wear after his bout with brain cancer and emergency surgery.
“We found out some info on our psychotic carrot-top, Elgin Hansen,” Echo said urgently.
“Everyone knows that redheads are a bit crazy,” Missy teased weakly, trying to lighten up.
Echo tossed one of her flame-colored locks over her shoulder, faking offense. “Some of us channel it better than others,” she huffed. “But seriously, this is some freaky stuff,” she said, leading Missy to their usual table, where she already had cupcakes and coffee waiting on the table.
“Turns out we make a pretty good team,” Kel waggled his eyebrows comically at the object of his affections.
“Don’t start, Kel,” Echo warned with a grin. “We don’t have time to waste on your shenanigans at the moment.”
“When will you have time for my shenanigans, dear goddess of mine?” he asked.
“I’ll get back to you on that.” She handed Missy a file folder full of info that she and Kel had printed out after doing some extensive internet searches.
“There’s a ton of material here, can you summarize for me, please? I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Poor thing, grab a cupcake and I’ll do all the talking,” Echo promised.
“Don’t you always?” Kel quipped. She ignored him.
“Okay, so we all knew that Elgin was a weird guy, he really freaked me out when he came in here,” Echo shuddered, remembering. “But we didn’t know just exactly how weird, until we did some digging.”
Missy wrapped her hands around her coffee mug and tried hard to focus on what her friend was saying, despite being sleepier than she’d been in a very long time.
“We found out that he’s a grad student at a state university in Kansas, and you’ll never guess what his field of study is,” she raised her eyebrows.
“Nope,” Missy blinked, waiting for her to continue, and trying to be patient with the theatrics.
“Herpetology,” she announced.
“Herp…? Huh…?”
“Herpetology is the study of amphibians and reptiles,” Kel explained, seeing Missy’s confusion.
“Okaaaay…” she said, not connecting the dots.
Echo stared at her typically astute friend, surprised that she wasn’t getting it. “Herpetologists are well-versed in dealing with snakes, which means that Elgin could very well be the person who put the snake in Gingham’s room.”
“That makes sense,” Missy nodded. “But it doesn’t tie hi
m to the murder in any way,” she mused.
“Do we actually know that it’s a murder?” Kel asked.
“The coroner thinks that he may have been poisoned, so he sent some samples to the lab. We won’t know for a few days. Spencer seems to think that it was murder, but of course he won’t talk to anyone but Chas about it,” Missy smiled wanly.
“In any case, we obviously need to keep a close eye on Gingham. This guy apparently is obsessed with her. She has a restraining order against him, and he’s always skirting the fringes of compliance. He’s been in the news more than once for showing up where he’s not supposed to, and he has a fan site dedicated to her, where he posts pictures, reviews, poems, and all things related to Gingham,” Kel explained.
“Creepy,” Missy shook her head. “That poor girl. I’m glad that Spencer is around to keep an eye on her, she really seems to like him.”
“What normal young woman wouldn’t?” Echo pointed out. “Some of Elgin’s poetry regarding Gingham is pretty dark and disturbing.”
“Really? I’d like to take a look at that.”
“The website address is in the file that I gave you, so you can take a look at everything and pass it on to Chas.”
“But, do we think that Elgin murdered Carter? Why would he do that?” Missy asked, looking from Echo to Kel.
“Maybe he was jealous,” Echo shrugged.
“Of what? Carter was her manager, not her lover.”
“Yes, but he had daily access to the object of Elgin’s affections. The lad may have presumed that a relationship existed. He could have blown it up in his mind and made it out to be something that it wasn’t,” Kel theorized, looking pointedly at Echo, who had recently been convinced that he’d been seeing someone, when in reality he’d been covering up the fact that he had cancer.
Apple Crisp Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 30 (A Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 4
